


Let's Try This One More Time

by corvidkohai



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: M/M, Time Travel Fix-It, Wutai War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2020-01-23 17:11:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 31,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18554161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvidkohai/pseuds/corvidkohai
Summary: Seeing no other solution, Gaia sends Cloud back in time to prevent the clash with Sephiroth from ever happening. Cloud lands in the past in the middle of the Wutai War.





	1. Chapter 1

               No one was entirely sure what was going on in the Northern Crater, only that nothing good ever happened in that gods forsaken place. It had been almost a year since the Remnants and Geostigma were taken care of, and things had been, astonishingly, calm since. Perhaps they were just due for another crisis. That’s what Cloud’s exasperation told him anyway as he hiked his way down the caldera.

               Ever since he landed on the Northern Continent, it had just been one big blizzard. If he were slightly less enhanced, he would have frozen to death long ago. As it was, he was stuck running in place with every pause just to keep his body temperature up. It worked, but it was tiring. The tents he had brought did nothing to keep him warm, and the winds and snow demolished any fire he managed to get lit. It was lucky he needed very little sleep, or this adventure would have been impossible. It was hard enough finding the scant few caves he did that allowed him to get some rest—he didn’t like to think about what would have happened if he had needed to rest in the open.

               Navigation was next to impossible. Reeve had given him equipment, but with the temperatures as low as they were, they had long since stopped working. It was good that Cloud was good in the wilderness and could get by with nothing more than a traditional compass and a map that had been blessedly laminated to protect it from the snow. His sense of direction had always been good, thanks to his mother forcing him into the wilds around Nibelheim at a young age, and it had only gotten better in the mad chase around the world.

               It took an absurdly long time, but he succeeded in getting to the bottom of the Northern Crater. The only problem was the building sense of foreboding as he climbed down. Something was going to happen. Something was going to meet him there, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what. He checked the materia in his bracer over and over and over again as he hiked, and only kept his hand off First Tsurugi’s hilt by sheer force of will.

               Something was building at the back of his mind, a strange pressure. It made him think of Jenova at first, but that couldn’t be it. Firstly, because they had finally gotten rid of the last scraps of her in the fight against Kadaj. Secondly, because it didn’t feel quite the same, and he as intimately familiar with that particular pressure on his mind at this point. It had always been a buzzing pall, a heavy, dark weight that suffocated slowly and filled one with a strange, desperate yearning. This wasn’t quite the same. It was heavy, yes, but like a weighted blanket, not like graveyard dirt. There was a longing, but it was peaceful, pleasant, like an imminent homecoming, not like a man in a desert looking for water. That it was so different comforted, but it also set Cloud on edge. Jenova, at least, he knew. That was a devil he was familiar with, knew how to fight. Whatever this strangeness was, it was new to Cloud. Yet somehow, it felt old, and strangely familiar.

               What was the most bizarre of all, was that when Cloud arrived at the bottom of the Crater, there was absolutely nothing there.

               He looked around, poking his head everywhere it would fit, in cracks and crevices and behind boulders. He could see the cracks in the ice where the WEAPONs had been so many years ago. He could see the webbing of roots high overhead where Sephiroth’s mako crystal had been supported. He was in the right place, he was absolutely sure of it, but he pulled out the map to look anyway. As he stared down at it, he was certain he was in the right place. He just didn’t understand what was happening.

               Reeve had been receiving bizarre readings from the Crater, and naturally everyone was concerned. That place reeked of Sephiroth, and no one had pleasant memories of it. They all hoped that perhaps the Lifestream had overtaken it and made it a holy place, but it seemed like too much to ask for. Given that it was the dead of winter on the Northern Continent, there was no one they could really send other than Cloud, except maybe Vincent, but the man was always terribly hard to get a hold of, and this really couldn’t wait. Cloud had set out within a week of the strange readings turning up because of the sheer amount of anxiety they brought with them.

               Cloud still didn’t know what was causing the readings, now that he was standing here. He knew that _something_ was here by the ear popping pressure in the air, but for the life of him, he couldn’t find what it was. He was ready to give up when the pressure began to build, and build, and build.

               _Champion_.

               Cloud opened his eyes to realize he was in a very familiar position, on his knees with his head in his hands. It made his stomach sink and twist, knowing the last cause that had forced him here. But the pressure of Jenova and Sephiroth had always left him gasping as if he was drowning when he came to, his head pounding with an impossible pain lancing through it, every muscle in his body taut and trembling. But now, he was on his knees because his legs had simply given out. He felt boneless, weak, in a way he hadn’t since his last dip in the Lifestream. His head was in his hands because it was spinning—gods, he was so dizzy. His eyes almost seemed to cross with it. The position was familiar, but everything about it felt different, right down to the voice in his head. This voice was sweet and welcome and familiar right down to his bones.

               “Aeris?”

               _Champion. Long have you fought. Your peace is hard won, but it is drawing to a close._

He didn’t like the sound of that.

               Images flashed behind his eyes. Fire. Black lancing through the Lifestream. Crumbling buildings. Dead bodies in heaping piles. Children screaming. Monsters rampant in the streets in a way they hadn’t been since Shinra ran the world.

               _The Son of the Calamity. He will not disappear into the Lifestream. His will is too strong. He craves you and will find a way to reach you. You keep him here, and it cannot continue._

Sephiroth flashed behind his eyelids next. The manic look in his eyes. The wicked smile on his lips. The cold contortion of his face. His smirk. His sneer. His wild laugh. The world-bending pride on his face that demanded everything around him kneel.

               “What do you want from me? Who are you?”

               The answer came in flashes. The Lifestream. Green, rolling fields. High mountains. Vast oceans. Flowers.

               Gaia.

               _You cannot stay, but there is nowhere for you to go. As long as you are here, he will be too. This cannot stand. He will return, again and again. Do you have the will to fight him for eternity?_

“I do. I’ll do whatever has to be done.”

               It wrung his heart. It destroyed him in measures to fight Sephiroth, it always had. This great man, brought so low, turned into something that he surely would have loathed if he only had the sense to see what he had become. But there was nothing to be done. He would fight Sephiroth as long as he had to, no matter the cost to himself. He would give up every scrap of humanity he had left if that was what he took. He had destroyed all of the Planet’s WEAPONs, but he would become the next one for her, if that’s what needed to be. He left Gaia defenseless, and he would step up to fill the gap he had left. No matter what it took from him to do so.

               _Your resolve reviles his. You, too, do not know how to return to the Lifestream. You’ve had your chance, so many times, to become one with the Planet, every time you’ve fallen in. But your will, too, does not know how to bend. Sooner or later, you will die as he has, from causes natural or unnatural. Your wills will be brought together in the Lifestream, where they will clash, because you do not know how to do anything else, and he will bring the fight to you. I cannot sustain such a battle in my core._

               Cloud didn’t understand. Did the Planet want him to lay down arms? He thought he was doing the right thing, vowing to stand in Sephiroth’s way until the world fell apart around them. But he apparently forgot to consider just what it meant for the world to fall apart around them.

               _No. You cannot concede. He will destroy whatever you leave unguarded until there is nothing left. But you cannot continue to fight him. The body toll will be too high. The casualties will be immense. His return is on the horizon. Even now, he gathers his will. He will return to this place. You have destroyed Jenova’s body, but he contains enough of her that it will not matter._

“I don’t understand. What do you want from me, then?”

               _You cannot continue to fight him, but you cannot afford not to. You are the glue that binds him here, the rope he follows to return. The planet will know peace only if you are not here. It is the only way to dissolve his will._

“So… you want to kill me?”

               Cloud felt panic build in his chest, but it was quickly followed by a sense of peace. He didn’t want to die. He was still responsible for a great many things. But that responsibility weighed on him like iron chains. He was starting to drag his way out of depression, was starting to find his footing in the world, but there were still a great many days he asked himself what he was still here for, now that the battles had been won. He didn’t want to go, now that he was finding his way. But if Gaia asked it of him, he would do it. He had decided long ago that he would lay down everything for the Planet and those that called it home. He could be okay with this. He regretted that his friends would mourn him, but better that than an eternal battle with Sephiroth that would bring the world to ash. No, he could do this. He would do this. For the Planet. Besides, it might be nice to lay down arms, at long last.

               _No._

               No?

               _If you are dead, you will return to the Lifestream. Your will would clash with his there. It would bring the end much quicker. No, there will only be peace if you are not here._

               Not here… as in not on the Planet? Cloud felt lost. Maybe they could rebuild the rocket? He got the feeling that Cid would kill him for trying to be the first person to permanently leave the Planet, though.

               “How do I leave?”

               _Are you willing to continue the fight? Will you pick your sword back up? Will you lay it all on the line to save the world, one more time?_

               “You know that I will. Anything, Gaia. Anything for the Planet.”

               _Even if it is not your own?_

               Cloud opened his mouth to answer, but apparently the question was rhetorical. The world around him faded as he swooned, collapsing onto his side in the snow. He had a brief moment to wonder what Gaia meant before it all faded to nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

               When he woke, it was to the biting cold he had left.

               He blinked open his eyes slowly. He was covered in a thick layer of snow. He was soaked to the bone. A harsh shiver ran through him as he pushed himself first to his knees, then his feet. He began knocking the snow off his clothes and out of his hair as he looked around.

               He hadn’t moved, per se, but everything was different.

               From the ice around him, the large face of a WEAPON stared out at him.

               Cloud froze.

               No WEAPON could be there. They were all destroyed. He had done so himself. He’d forged a blade from the bones of one. There was nothing left to protect the Planet but him, he knew that. So what was staring at him from the ice?

               It couldn’t be WEAPON, but it was, he was certain. The old Northern Crater had long been seared into his mind from when he had given the Black Materia to Sephiroth, a scene that still haunted his nightmares. And this looked identical.

               He looked up above, where he knew Sephiroth would be, only to find him missing. His brow furrowed. He looked back at WEAPON, which blinked absently at him. He looked up to the roots above him again and squinted.

               There was nothing for it. He pulled the ropes from his pack, which was thankfully still there, even if it was buried in the snow. It took time, but he climbed his way up into the network of roots. He scoured every inch of it, but there was nothing to be found. Sephiroth was not there.

               WEAPON was.

               What in the world did it mean?

               Cloud looked down at WEAPON below him. He knew the WEAPONs were dangerous. They were as likely to destroy the world as Sephiroth was if they weren’t given a clear goal. He didn’t like the idea of leaving them here, but without Sephiroth and his awakening to awaken them in turn, they would remain asleep and trapped. It was more important to figure out what was going on than worry about the WEAPONs. If push came to shove, they could be destroyed again. He and AVALANCHE had done it once, they could do it again.

               Cloud looked around him. The blizzard that had plagued his trek in was absent. The snow that had covered him when he had woken was blown into place by the wind, but there was no fresh powder falling from the skies. He risked pulling out his PHS, knowing signal was spotty here, and sure enough, there was no connection to be had. He sighed, but shouldered his pack and began moving. There was nothing for it. He couldn’t reach anyone right now to figure out what was going on, and Gaia’s cryptic words still hung in his ears.

               The return journey was infinitely quicker. The storm was absent, and it was strangely much warmer. If he didn’t know he had left in the heart of winter, he would have thought it was spring, if not summer.

               It still took a while to reach Icicle Inn, but eventually he paid for his room and went to retire to somewhere that was finally, _finally_ warm.

               What was strange was the way the woman at the front desk looked at him. It was as if she didn’t recognize him. There was nothing wrong with that, per se—in fact, Cloud would love for no one but people he personally knew to recognize him. But that just wasn’t the case anymore. Apparently, saving the world a time or two gave one a reputation. People recognized him on sight. People looked at him with awe and stars in their eyes. They stuttered when they spoke to him, or asked for his autograph if they were brave. They gave him a wide berth on the street. They stared and whispered.

               None of that happened here.

               People on the way into the Inn had bumped shoulders with him. The Inn wasn’t necessarily packed, but the visitors from out of town looking to snowboard didn’t look at him twice, much less let their eyes linger. The woman at the desk seemed bored to see him, instead of her eyes lighting up and a gasp on her lips at first glance.

               It was… bizarre.

               Cloud went and took a hot shower to warm his bones before flopping on his bed in a pair of sweatpants and not much else. The elements affected him less than most, and the Inn felt amazingly warm after the weeks he had spent out in the ice. If he put on the sweater in his pack, he’d probably start sweating.

               So he was shirtless and barefoot, in a state of rare undress when he pulled his PHS out again. Here in Icicle, at least, he had a few bars to connect to the outside world. He dialed Reeve.

               “Reeve Tuesti,” the man greeted blandly when he answered. He sounded distracted.

               “Reeve,” he greeted in return.

               “Yes? Can I help you?”

               The answer was odd, unfamiliar. Maybe he really was distracted. Surely he at least glanced at the caller ID before picking up?

               “It’s Cloud,” he said, in case the man hadn’t. “I’m back from the Crater.”

               “Cloud? Cloud who?”

               Cloud pulled the PHS from his ear to look at it oddly. He pressed it back in place after a long moment.

               “Cloud Strife.”

               “I’m sorry, but I don’t know a Cloud Strife. How did you get this number?”

               “… You gave it to me, Reeve.”

               “I’m not in the habit of giving my personal PHS number to strangers. It’s not even on my business card.”

               He sounded bewildered. It had nothing on the confusion Cloud felt. He scowled, hard.

               “Reeve, I’ve had a very strange day, I’m not really in the mood for your jokes.”

               “… Cloud, was it?”

               Cloud sighed deeply.       

               “Of course, Reeve.”

               “Cloud, I’m not sure who put you up to calling this number, or who gave it to you, but I’m actually quite busy. I need to be getting back to work.”

               Reeve got in the strangest moods sometimes. He spent too long running around as that damn cat, if you asked Cloud. The WRO had been good for sobering him up, but sometimes his jokes still ran away with him.

               “Fine, fine. Can we at least discuss the readings from the Northern Crater before you hang up?”

               “What readings?”            

               Cloud pinched the bridge of his nose and blew out a slow breath.

               “The ones you sent me trekking across the Northern Continent in the dead of winter to look into.”

               “… but it’s summer, and no one short of Sephiroth could survive such a journey in the winter.”

               The remark about Sephiroth stung—as if he needed a reminder of their similarities. But what stuck out was the comment about summer.

               “It’s _what?_ ”

               “It’s July 17th today. Do you not know that?”

               “No, I’ve been neck deep in ice for weeks.” It would normally have come out sarcastic, but it was full of wonder.

               “Well, that’s the date.”

               Then there was a sinking in his stomach.

               WEAPON. Summer. The lack of public recognition. Reeve not knowing him.

               Gaia said the world needed him gone. That his fight would be for a different world.

               “Hey, uh, Reeve?”

               “Yes?”

               “What’s the full date?”

               “What are you asking?”

               “Humor me.”

               Reeve sighed deeply, but complied.

               Cloud jerked the PHS from his ear and snapped it shut, quick as lightning.

               It was almost ten years ago.

               Cloud all but ran out of the room and pounded down the stairs. He skidded to a stop in front of the alarmed woman at the front desk.

               “Can I help you?”

               “Do you have today’s newspaper?”

               The woman looked confused at his urgency, but dug around below the counter. Eventually, she handed out the folded stack to him.

               Reeve hadn’t been lying.

               He stared down at the date for a long, long time before setting it carefully back on the counter with shaking hands. He mumbled his thanks before making his way slowly upstairs.

               He sat gingerly on his bed, staring at where First Tsurugi was leaning against the wall.

               It was almost a decade ago. The headline on the paper proclaimed the recent success of new general and SOLDIER, Sephiroth, in Wutai. He was in the past, and in a critical era. His mind was reeling.

               Gaia told him he’d have to fight. What had she meant? Clearly he would have to take Sephiroth down, but it wouldn’t be enough. He had to destroy Jenova. He had to destroy _Hojo_ , before the man got it in his head to try making clones. He had to prevent Meteor. He had to prevent Nibelheim.

               An immense pressure settled on his shoulders. There was so much at stake. The whole world, really. He had to stop it all before Sephiroth became what he would—a nightmare that couldn’t be eliminated, no matter how many times he was killed.

               His head hurt. How was this supposed to work? Was there a little him, running around Nibelheim right now? Would he run into his past self? Should he _look_ for his past self, try to help him? No, there were more important things at stake than one child, no matter how invested he might be in that child’s future. All he could do was make sure that boy never had to go through what he did.

               But, through it all, a flicker of hope spread through him. He could fix things. He could make it so Cloud never had to experience the labs, or have to watch his home burn, or have to kill the one person to ever inspire him. He could make it so _Zack_ never went to the labs, never died. He could make it so Aeris never had to sacrifice herself.

               A traitorous part of him, the one that never knew when to accept things as a lost cause, wondered if he couldn’t save _everyone_ , even Sephiroth. If maybe the man wasn’t irredeemable. If, maybe, he couldn’t tweak things enough that he never became a threat.

               He quashed that immediately. It wasn’t a chance he could take. Sephiroth had to go. For a young Cloud’s sake. For Zack’s sake. For Aeris’s sake. For the Planet’s sake.

               With his mind made up and determined to ignore that the thought had ever so much as come to him, Cloud sprang from the bed. He yanked on his ribbed sweater of a tank top, jerking the zipper up to his chin. He repacked his bags and clomped down the stairs, making a beeline towards the door.

               “Hey!” the woman at the desk called. “You already paid for the night!”

               “Keep the gil,” Cloud said, letting the door swing shut hard behind him.

               He had things to do.


	3. Chapter 3

               Cloud knew he had to go south. That much was obvious. There was nothing he could do, no way to help from the Northern Continent. The question was, where did he go first? There were so many things to get done, it was hard to prioritize. There was Jenova, Hojo, Sephiroth, his younger self (was there a younger version of him still?), Nibelheim in general, Wutai, gods, did he even worry about getting AVALANCHE back together? They were all still scattered. Half of them were still _children_ at this time. Tifa probably still had a bedtime. Yuffie _certainly_ did, and was probably babysat, at that. He couldn’t reassemble the old team.

               Well, not most of them. There was one of them that he was dead certain was an appropriate age for a little bloodshed.

               He angled his path toward the Western Continent. If he went to Nibelheim, he could take care of more than one thing with a single stop. He knew perfectly well how to take down a reactor. He could remove Jenova while he was there. He could see if there really was a little-him running around that he’d need to watch out for. He could drag Vincent out of that godsforsaken coffin and out into the real world where he could do some good. Even if Vincent wasn’t wasting his skill in his punishment, he didn’t want to leave his friend to suffer. This Vincent was a stranger, but if Cloud could set him on the road to forgiveness, he wanted to.

               So he made the trek. It was a blessing and a curse that his current outfit still resembled a modified SOLDIER First uniform. Everyone who saw him saw his clothes, saw his eyes, and left well enough alone. To be safe, he skirted the bigger towns. The last thing he needed was word of a rogue SOLDIER getting back to Shinra. He didn’t need them on his tail before he had a chance to even _do_ anything. It wouldn’t be a _huge_ issue—he’d chased Sephiroth around the globe while on Shinra’s black list. That didn’t mean he wanted to deal with the hassle of it. He wanted to fly below the radar this time, keep things as quiet as he could.

               It took him longer than it would have otherwise because he was avoiding the large towns. He slept outside without a tent simply because he didn’t have much choice. People paid good gil for proof of murdered monsters, and he had to kill plenty on his way. It could have brought him enough for proper supplies, but then he’d have to go into town, and he wouldn’t risk it. The little villages didn’t have the gil for a mercenary fund unless there was a truly awful monster infestation. Cloud knew it from his own experience in Nibelheim; the only time they had paid someone to take care of monsters had been when the dragon population got out of control, and even then, they’d called Shinra.

               He foraged and hunted and slept on the ground, but there was something a little nostalgic about it. He’d done this for a year, after all. They hadn’t always had access or gil for an inn, and they still had to eat and sleep. They’d gotten enough tents for everyone after a while, but when they’d first left Midgar in particular, it had been the ground under the stars for them. It left a strange pang in his chest. He missed his friends.

               More than once, he flipped through his PHS, looking at numbers he knew now would not work, or if they did, wouldn’t get him the friends he knew. He reread old conversations through text and found himself wishing fervently that he’d engaged more with his friends while he had the chance. What got him through the ache of it all was the AVALANCHE group chat. He and Vincent had rarely participated unless asked direct questions, but it was a long thread of banter and jokes and life updates that made it feel like his friends weren’t so far away.

               He pointedly didn’t think about how far away they actually were. About how he might never actually see them again. Oh, he didn’t doubt he’d run into some of them, but those people weren’t _his_ friends. They didn’t know him. They didn’t share history. They weren’t the people he was missing.

               Every time his mind strayed in that direction, he immediately found something else to do.

               He made it to Nibelheim eventually, despite it taking far longer than it would have if he hadn’t been trying so hard to be subtle.

               There was nothing for it in Nibelheim, though. He could skirt the village and make it up to the reactor, probably even get into the Mansion without notice if he really had to, but he needed supplies. He couldn’t build bombs out of nothing, and the village was his last chance to get the final ingredients. He’d picked up a few things along the way, stored in a pack he’d bought with his ever dwindling supply of gil, but he needed the last items.

               That meant going into town. Which meant an uproar. A strangely SOLDIER-looking fellow wandering in with an uncanny resemblance to the Strifes? There would be talk. He knew Nibelheim. There would be questions, but luckily, he’d had the whole trip to prepare.

               He wandered into the village and went to the single, small clothing store first. He needed anything that didn’t make him look like a SOLDIER, that read a little less military. He was perfectly polite as he shopped and paid. If the woman looked at him oddly the whole time, especially when he asked to borrow the changing room after he had paid, it wasn’t too bad. She didn’t actually ask anything, just looked at him curiously. Something was clearly off about him, and Cloud was certain she’d spread word lightning quick once he was gone, but she let him change into his new purchases without a fuss. He left dressed in matching black jeans and tee-shirt, keeping his own boots; he was too used to wearing only black at this point to change. He was lucky it was summer, and no one would look at him twice for not being dressed for the cold.

               Sure enough, within a few minutes of leaving the store, there were people peeking out their windows at him as he wound through the town. He paid them no mind. He was sure he would have been one of them, as a boy. There was so little of interest that happened in the village, anything of note was cause for excitement. He wasn’t going to start a fuss if they weren’t.

               He went to the general store next to pick up the last odds and ends he needed for his bombs. Household chemicals, some containers, a spool of wire, and he was done. He bought his items, trying not to look too hard at the scant amount of gil he had left over when he was done. The woman who ran the general store watched him even closer than the one who ran the clothing shop.

               As he paid, she said, “You from outta town?”

               “Yeah.”

               “Where abouts?”

               “The Northern Continent.”

               “That’s a long way to come to visit a little burg like us. What’d you come for?”

               “I apparently have family in town. I’m on my way south, thought I’d stop by, say hi.”

               “Hn. The Strifes?”

               “That’s them.”

               “You know where to find ‘em?”

               “Not really, I was gonna ask around. Unless you could give me directions?”

               Cloud let the woman give him instructions on how to reach the home he was perfectly able to find on his own to avoid suspicion. He nodded politely, thanked her for her help, and left the shop.

               He knew Nibelheim well enough to know how this worked. Normally, Cloud didn’t speak quite this much. He got away with it by virtue of being the brooding hero, in his own time. Before that, when he’d been traveling with AVALANCHE, it had been Zack’s personality that got him through at first. Zack had always been so much friendlier than he was. After that, he simply hadn’t given a damn about being polite, and was frankly so curt and short with people that it was rude. He’d had bigger things to worry about than manners, at the time.

               But in Nibelheim, he knew better. If he followed the right codes of conduct, he’d be more unremarkable. A rude boy who blew into town with an attitude issue would be talked about for quite a while. A polite young man who brought in some business, visited family, and left without a fuss would be less worthy of discussion. It was worth the effort to avoid Shinra’s attention a little longer, especially considering this was a reactor town. He couldn’t remember how often people came to do repairs, having not paid much attention as a child, but he needed to be a distant memory in the town’s memory by the time they came by next.

               With all his supplies and his change of clothes, he made his way through town to his childhood home.

               Part of this was selfish. His heart was hammering in his throat. He hadn’t seen his mother since before Nibelheim burned. She was going to be here, now, alive and well. She may or may not buy his story, but at least he’d get to see her. Yes, it would help to know if he had a little version of him running around to look out for, and that was ostensibly the reason he was going at all. But really, he just wanted a chance to see his mother one more time.

               He stood at the door for a long, long time. He could feel the town’s eyes pressing against his back from the safety of their windows. The only thing that eventually got him to knock was concern for his cover story, that it might look suspicious if he was too nervous about seeing his supposed family.

               When Claudia Strife opened the door, Cloud’s heart climbed all the way up into his throat. His breath hitched. She looked at him curiously, seeing the obvious resemblance. It was only the polite distance on her face that got Cloud to rein in his rioting emotions.

               “Can I help you?”

               “Hi,” Cloud said. “I’m, uh, family? I’m from the Northern Continent. My mom, she used to talk about this place. Said she had a sister she left behind here when she moved up North?”

               It had been a distant, distant memory for Cloud. His mother used to talk fondly about her sister who moved up to Icicle. She used to talk about how the Strifes just couldn’t get out of the cold.

               Claudia’s face lit up.

               “My little Snowflake had a son? Gaia, she must have been young when she had you. Please, come in!”

               Cloud still wasn’t sure if Snowflake was the sister’s name or nickname. It could be either, considering his own name.

               He ducked his head and came inside, wiping his feet as he did.

               “Cloud! Come out here!”

               Ah, shit.

               Cloud looked up to see his younger self poke his head out from around the corner of the hall.

               He’d been hoping that maybe, with all the timeline weirdness, he was the only Cloud Strife running around. It’d be one less person to worry about, one less potential victim to protect. But the little blond boy came trotting up, looking at his older self with big eyes.

               “What’s your name, son?” Claudia asked him, and he had to fight to keep his breath even, being addressed that way. He knew it was common for Nibel folk to call any male younger than themselves “son,” but it still made his heart stutter.

               “Everyone just calls me Strife.”

               “Even your ma?”

               “She’s—well, she passed. They started calling me that because I was the only one in town.”

               Grief passed over Claudia’s face. He could see her eyes water, but she pulled in a deep breath and smiled. She squeezed his shoulder.

               “Any son of my Snowflake is a son of mine. Speaking of sons, this is mine—Cloud.”

               Cloud looked down at his younger self. Part of him wanted to crouch to eye level, like he would with Denzel, but he knew how he was at that age. It would just aggravate the kid. He stuck his hand out instead.

               “Pleasure to meet you,” Cloud said.

               “You too,” the younger version said as he shook his hand, voice much higher than Cloud ever remembered his own being. He guessed perspective would do that.

               “You’ll stay for dinner, won’t you? I want you to tell me all about Icicle,” Claudia said.

               Cloud paused.

               It wasn’t wise. He had his answer about his younger self, now. He had gotten to see his mother. The smart thing to do was to make his excuses and leave. He had to go get Vincent. He had a reactor to blow up and Jenova to fry. They were all things that really shouldn’t wait.

               But the fact was, he _wanted_ to stay. He knew things were going to be hard. Gaia had warned him this would be a fight. He knew where he was headed when he was done in Nibelheim, and it was going to be hell. This was his last respite, the calm before the storm. He was reluctant to leave it.

               He told himself that it would be more believable for his cover story if he stayed. He’d said he came to see the Strifes, it wouldn’t make much sense to pop in so quick and then leave.

               (It wasn’t the truth. The truth was, he wanted to see his mother for as long as possible. He wanted to see the younger him, whose biggest problems were bullies, and dream about all the possibilities for him, if life didn’t chew him up and spit him out the way had happened in Cloud’s own timeline. He wanted to have everything he’d been denied before, just for one night.)

               It was selfish, to stay. It was impractical. It was irresponsible.

               It was exactly the right decision.

               The night was everything he never dared to fantasize about. He got to see a little him, relatively carefree, laughing and smiling and full of hope. It was like he’d finally gotten the little sibling he’d always begged his mother for, a little brother to take care of. It was worth shouldering the burden of protecting him. He got to be with his mother, hear her laugh, see her smile, feel her embrace him again. He’d reminisced about his mother a thousand times, but her memory had been fading. He had been forgetting her, the sound of her voice, her smell, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she got that mischievous grin of hers.

               It wasn’t the right thing to do to stay the night. But it was exactly what he needed to give him the strength to do what had to be done next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> howdy! I promise this isn't dead! I finally finished Smile For The Camera and will be getting back to this and my other WIPs, so hopefully I will be updating regularly again! sorry for the wait!!


	4. Chapter 4

The night spent with his family had been as necessary as it was frivolous, as pleasant as it was strange. He decided he would see his younger self as a brother, and as soon as he did, he became immediately attached. When he was thinking of him as a younger self, he kept waiting for him to disappear as the planet corrected its paradox. But thinking of him as a brother made him solid, less ephemeral. He stopped waiting for him to vanish, which meant he was staying. If he was staying, and he was family, he was someone to protect, another part of Cloud’s responsibility. It was more weight on his shoulders, but it was worth it. 

 

His brother was fiery and shy in turns. He didn’t seem to want Cloud to know anything about him, and tried to shush his gushing mother at every turn. He did something Cloud had forgotten was an old habit of his—calling his mother “Mom” instead of “Ma” when he was upset with her. It brought home how much he had forgotten of the woman, and his childhood. It raised a fierce desire in him to never let the circumstances arise that would lead to such a situation for his brother. 

 

But the night had dwindled down. Young Cloud was sent to his room at an appropriate bedtime, and his mother brought out the liquor—cinnamon whiskey she used to top off hard cider. Drinking was common in Nibelheim, to stave off the cold if nothing else. The thought of drinking with his mother was strange (he’d still been too young when he left home) but he looked like an adult to her, and this was what adults did in Nibelheim. 

 

“So, son,” his heart skipped a beat, “what actually drags you all the way out here?”

 

He paused, drink halfway to his mouth. 

 

Shit. He’d forgotten how perceptive his mother was. 

 

“I’ve got a couple of pit-stops to make in the area,” he admitted. “This wasn’t my end destination.”

 

“Where’re you headed?”

 

Cloud carefully set his drink down. 

 

“It’s better if I don’t tell you that.”

 

“It got something to do with that big butcher’s knife of yours?” she said, nodding to where he had left it leaning against the wall, still in easy reach. 

 

“You could say that.”

 

“I don’t like it, but I won’t tell you your business. Stay safe as you can. My boy, he likes to run headlong into trouble, and you remind me of him. Try not to do that.”

 

Cloud picked up his drink again for something to do, something to distract him from that comparison. 

 

“I’ll do my best. No promises.”

 

“You sure you’re not just looking for trouble?”

 

“Trouble usually finds me either way; it’s better to head it off at the pass, where I can.”

 

Claudia nodded safely, sipping her drink. 

 

“Curse of the Strife name.”

 

Cloud smiled and hid it behind his glass. 

 

“Don’t know if I’m glad or not, that it’s not just me it seems to haunt.”

 

“Nope, it gets to all of us, one way or another. I just hope it won’t hit my boy too hard.”

 

“I’m going to do everything I can to make sure it doesn’t.”

 

Claudia looked at him consideringly; he guessed it  _ was _ a strange sentiment from someone they just met, family or no. He took another sip. She smiled fondly at him. 

 

“Thank you. Somehow, I think you mean that.”

 

The interrogation ended there, devolving into lighter subjects. They talked until they finished their drinks, when Claudia got him blankets and set him up on the couch. He tried to say he should head out; he could push through with no sleep, and it didn’t matter what time it was when he woke Vincent. She insisted, though, and he didn’t have it in him to deny her. 

 

He did think it was fair to sneak out as soon as she was asleep, though. 

 

He left a note on top of the folded blankets that thanked her for her hospitality, and then ducked out of the house into the Nibel night. 

 

It didn’t take very long at all to reach the mansion; it was just down the road, really. But he stood outside the gates for a long, long while, just staring at the building, his heart thudding loudly in his ears. But then a sharp gust blew by, carrying with it an unseasonable chill. Cloud shivered, but it got him moving. 

 

He vaulted over the fence with ease; he could have crumpled the lock in his hand, but he didn’t want the Nibel kids to be able to get in easily with how many monsters called the mansion home. He focused on his breath and the chilling breeze to fight back the swell of memories that rose up higher with every step he got closer to the building. He never liked remembering what happened in that basement, but sometimes, it came creeping up anyway like bile up the throat. 

 

He was hoping the monsters inside would kick up a fuss to give him a distraction, but no such luck. Wild creatures, especially the weaker ones, tended to avoid him on instinct. He didn’t know if it was a response to the mako, the Jenova cells, or simply sensing someone at the top of the food chain. Regardless of the cause, his biggest concern as he made his way upstairs were the rickety planks of the stairs threatening to give. He pressed the switch to open the wall, not even needing to look to find it. He watched the brick slide with a grinding noise to one side, showing the endless spiral staircase. These stairs didn’t creak quite as ominously, but Cloud still wouldn’t have been convinced they would hold, if he didn’t know they’d carried him further down the timeline, after even more aging and warping. 

 

The basement was freezing, and sent a slick shiver down his spine. He ignored the fluttering of bats above him to make his way to the lab, bypassing where he knew Vincent was resting. He broke everything he could see; every mako tank, computer, and cabinet was left in splinters. He went through every inch of the lab, combing through for anything that could be used to hurt another person and making sure it was ruined by his hand. Part of it was catharsis and vengeance, that was true. But at least half of it was to be sure that, no matter what happened, his brother wouldn’t be brought here. It might be another lab squirreled away somewhere else, if he failed, but at least his memory of Nibelheim would never be soured. 

 

When the space was in ruins, Cloud backtracked to the coffin room. There, he saw Vincent’s casket, just as he remembered. He still felt it was overdramatic of him to hide in a coffin, but it  _ did _ mean people were unlikely to disturb him. Unless you had Yuffie in tow, who insisted that there might be treasure buried with the bodies and demanded they check. 

 

Cloud hesitated, unsure about how to go about this. He wasn’t flippantly popping open the coffin to get Yuffie to give it a rest; he was deliberately disturbing someone who didn’t want to be found. Should he knock?

 

He scoffed at his own ridiculousness. This was stupid. Vincent had never been a stickler for manners. 

 

Cloud flipped the lid off the coffin, letting it clatter to the ground. 

 

Vincent didn’t blink his eyes slowly at the sudden light the way anyone else would have. His eyes simply opened and he sat up. They narrowed just a hair, in what Cloud only knew was vague irritation because he was used to reading the man’s silent cues. 

 

He opened his mouth to speak, but Cloud interrupted, saying, “Your name is Vincent Valentine. You were the Turk assigned to guard Lucrecia Crescent during the Jenova project. Hojo shot you in the chest with the shotgun you gave him. He spent who knows how long experimenting on you. Galian Beast can smell that there is no fear on me. Death Gigas wants to knock me out so he can go back to resting. Hellmasker is itching to shut me up any way he knows how. Chaos, though, he’s intrigued; if you close that coffin on me, he’s going to prod at you all night and you won’t get any more sleep for a while, so you might as well come out of the coffin and hear me out.”

 

Vincent gave him a look that was slow and appraising. If he was disturbed that a stranger knew his darkest secrets and could guess at the whims of his demons with uncanny accuracy, he didn’t show it. He just leapt gracefully out of the coffin. 

 

“You aren’t dressed like one of Hojo’s assistants.”

 

“I’m not. I’m going to see him dead; you have dibs on pulling the trigger if you want it, though. You’ve got the right.”

 

Cloud had felt bereft when he watched Vincent kill him last time; he’d wanted the honor himself. But seeing a tension he thought was just a part of the man slip from his shoulders as Hojo fell to the ground had made it worth it. 

 

“If you have reason to want him dead, why are you not insisting on doing it yourself?”

 

“Because, clearly, I know your history. And it’ll be good for you, to do it yourself.”

 

“Why would my benefit matter to you?”

 

“Because we were friends, once. But that’s not the important part—that, I can explain later. We have a lot of ground to cover tonight, and it can wait. For now, I need you to come with me.”

 

“And why would I do that?”

 

“Because Sephiroth, Lucrecia’s son, is on a dangerous path. I know you’ll want to save him, if we can. He may not be so far gone that that’s out of the question, yet. But, when we’re done here, I’m going to go find him. I’m going to make a judgement call, and if I find him wanting, I’m going to put him down. If you don’t come with me, you can’t stop me from killing him, if you think he can still be saved. Stay here and trust the judgement of a stranger with the life of Lucrecia’s son, or come with me and judge him yourself. Your call.”

 

Vincent stared at him for a long, long, long time. Cloud let him take as long as he needed; he knew there was no rushing Vincent if he didn’t want to be. He just blinked back at him, waiting patiently for his verdict. 

 

“Where are we headed?”

 

“Out of the building, in a minute. I have a fire to start, first.”

 

Vincent blinked at him, his head dipping just a hair, and Cloud knew that was Vincent-speak for “go ahead.” He turned and walked out of the room, leaving the door open for Vincent behind him. 

 

He didn’t know that Chaos filled the silence he left. 

 

_ “Interesting. He knows too much, and he reeks of fate. Things bend wrong around him. He’s a puzzle piece, forced to fit a spot he wasn’t carved for,” _ Chaos said to Vincent. 

 

_ What does it mean? _ Vincent asked. He rarely listened to the demon, as his words usually had no use other than spiking his temper. But he could sense things Vincent couldn’t, and sometimes, that was worth paying attention to. 

 

_ “It means, little soul, that he has purpose, and that is something few people can claim.” _

 

Vincent filed this away for later thought as he trailed Cloud toward the library. He watched as Cloud, meticulously and thoroughly, lit the books on fire. It was only when he was absolutely certain it would all burn to ash that he led Vincent out with a jerk of his head toward the door. 

 

Maybe he could have just broken the lock to get in. But maybe the fire wouldn’t spread to the whole building, and that was all the more reason to keep the children out. Better if they didn’t run around burned-out ruins. 

 

Vincent followed him silently through the building and out of it. He climbed up and over the fence that Cloud jumped with ease his glowing eyes explained. Then he followed him as he led him up toward the mountain pass. 

 

As this was a long hike, up to the reactor, Cloud decided to fill the silence. 

 

“I’m from the future.”

 

Vincent stared back at him, his expression relatively even, but Cloud could see by the single line between his brows that he was baffled. 

 

“Chaos can probably sense Gaia on me. Galian can tell if I’m lying. Ask them.”

 

There was a rumble of agreement from the Beast. 

 

_ “It would explain why he doesn’t fit quite right. And the stench on him does smell like the left-overs of Gaia’s touch.” _

 

Vincent blinked for a few seconds, and then nodded. Cloud nodded in return. 

 

“In the future, a lot of stuff goes, frankly, to hell in a handbasket. We’ll have time for the details as we travel, if you want them. The short version is that Jenova, the ‘Ancient’ whose cells Hojo injected Sephiroth with, isn’t an Ancient at all. She’s an alien, and powerful, and as rotten as they come. Hojo filled that library with nonsense about how she’s Sephiroth’s mother, and how she’s an Ancient, and the world is his birthright—it goes on, and it’s all horseshit. Sephiroth finds it, and between that and her call, he loses it. He’s never the same after. He calls himself a god and wants to burn the world for reasons that are also horseshit. But he does manage to summon a giant Meteor and nearly  _ does _ burn the world.”

 

“But?”

 

“But he’s stopped in time. He’s killed—for the second time, I might add. But he comes back again, in a complicated situation involving alien scraps and remnants of himself—or maybe of his clones, I was never clear on that. Anyway, he brought with him this illness that wiped out a lot of people, innocents and kids. Once that’s cured, and he’s put down for the third time, it’s not even that long before he nearly manages to come back  _ again _ . He can’t become one with the Lifestream in death; I think it’s his will that stopped it, but metaphysics go over my head half the time. Long story short, he goes off the rails, and Gaia sent me back to make sure it doesn’t happen this time.”

 

“And you intend to do that by?”

 

“Getting rid of Jenova. Hopefully that will be enough to do it, but in case it isn’t, getting rid of Hojo, so he can’t make any Sephiroth clones that might be able to do what Sephiroth did in my timeline. Then, make a call on Sephiroth. If I think he’s going to be a problem, I’ll kill him. If not—well, I’ll still find a way to keep an eye on him, just in case.”

 

“Which part of this are we on our way to?”

 

“Jenova. She should be in the Mt. Nibel reactor. Hopefully all in one piece, still, so I don’t have to track down scraps of her.”

 

Vincent paused to consider this, mulling the situation over. He didn’t want to be party to killing Lucrecia’s son, but he’d always known how to do what had to be done. And if this was what needed doing, so be it. 

 

Cloud let him take his time coming to his conclusions, long used to Vincent’s habit of drifting without warning into silence. 

 

“I’ll help how I can,” Vincent said eventually. 

 

Cloud felt his shoulders relax just a hair. 

 

“Thanks. I know you don’t want to hurt him, but maybe we won’t have to.”

 

Cloud carefully didn’t say that he thought that was an impossibly small chance. 

 

Vincent heard it anyway. 

 

“Some day, you will tell me how you know so much about things you shouldn’t, and your part in all of this.”

 

“You told me about yourself, and the things that happened, and the things that ride along with you. It took years for you to get the whole truth out, only ever bits and pieces at a time, but you got there.”

 

“And I trusted you with these truths.”

 

“Apparently. Maybe, one day, you will again.”

 

Vincent had no answer for that, so the rest of the trip was in silence. 

 

It was very nearly dawn by the time they reached the reactor, the first teases of sunlight poking up over the horizon. The light helped Cloud’s nerves more than he expected—and he was nervous. 

 

Because things were going too well. There was no buzzing in the back of his mind, no weight pressing down on him, no pressure like being deep underwater. His ears didn’t ring, didn’t fill with static and white noise and far-off singing. The stars didn’t fascinate him and call to him in a way they shouldn’t. Every hallmark of Jenova was absent. 

 

He told himself that it was practice. The walls around his mind were sturdier, now. He knew how to block it out. Jenova couldn’t reach him because his mind was well-protected these days. 

 

(He carefully tried to forget that, even when his protections were at their best, he could feel the pressure he had to push back against. That it had always been an active defense, a battle, not something effortless.)

 

When he got inside the reactor, he bounded up the stairs, anxious to set his fears to bed. His breath kept catching in his throat, his heart beating a tattoo against his chest. He pressed the panel at the side of the door, watched it slide open, and stared up at the dais. 

 

The empty dais. 

 

“ _ Fuck _ .”

 

He knew, the whole trip up, that she wasn’t here. He hadn’t wanted to admit it, never would have if he didn’t see it with his own eyes. As it was, he still went to the lower level to look for her, just in case. When he had searched every inch and not found one silver hair, he cursed again. 

 

“I take it Jenova should be here.”

 

“She should.  _ Shit _ . If she’s not here yet, she’s in Midgar with Hojo.”

 

Which meant he had two options. Deal with Midgar, and storm Shinra, or go find Sephiroth. 

 

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at it briefly. 

 

Sephiroth was the key to it all. Without him, there would be a big delay before anything could start. Hojo would need to make a successful clone first. The time bought with Sephiroth being dealt with would be enough that he could take care of Jenova and Hojo. He had half a mind to blow the reactor, as a convenient next step against the alien and professor. But it would be better left standing; if Cloud couldn’t get to Jenova in Midgar, at least he knew where she would end up, when the timing was right. 

 

Sephiroth it is. 

 

“Where to next?” Vincent asked, as Cloud clomped down the metal stairs toward the exit. 

 

“Wutai.”


	5. Chapter 5

               Cloud, as a rule, was not a man with a plan. He found he worked best when he improvised, and had long since stopped fighting it. Still, even he knew that he needed _some_ kind of idea of what to do before he reached Wutai. Luckily, the journey from Nibelheim to the island nation was long enough that he could settle on something.

               It was a sketchy outline at best. It only had 4 steps.

  1. Get to Wutai.
  2. Join up with their army.
  3. Find Sephiroth.
  4. Keep an eye on him (and maybe stop his progress).



It had still taken him most of the trip to settle on this plan. He’d had a couple of options, after all, and he needed to settle on _something_. Vincent was absolutely no help when he asked for his advice.

The goal was to watch Sephiroth and see if he could be redeemed, though Cloud largely thought it was a waste of time. The most effective way to do that was to join Shinra, get into SOLDIER, and get deployed to Wutai. There were a few issues with that, though. It would take time, to get to Midgar, to enlist, to pass his exam, to get sent to the right area, and even then, he couldn’t be sure he’d be deployed _with_ Sephiroth, and not to some other part of the front. There was the fact that he was clearly already enhanced, and he’d have to find some way to explain the glow in his eyes; he thought that maybe he could say he fell in a mako spring, but he wasn’t sure how far that lie would stretch. He’d have to tone down his skills to something that would make the SOLDIER cut but not show the depth of his prowess. Even then, it was likely there would be _some_ tell, and someone as knowledgeable as Sephiroth would be able to spot it. It would be counter-productive to gather the man’s attention if he wanted to watch him unseen.

               (Not to mention that the idea of joining Shinra left a foul taste in his mouth.)

And that was the second option: to watch from the shadows. Wutai had enough tree-cover that he had a fair shot of being able to remain invisible while trailing Sephiroth. Even when the mountains were barren, there would be large boulders and caves and crags to hide behind. He thought he could probably manage it, but if he _did_ get spotted (and he had to sleep at some point), it would be the quickest way to draw Sephiroth’s attention. He’d be an unknown threat with no discernable loyalty, which meant they would assume he was an enemy. They would send out troopers and maybe SOLDIERs to test him, and he would dispatch them because there was no real way he’d lose that fight, and then Sephiroth would be called in to handle him. This left him with the same problem as going to Shinra.

So he decided that the best way to keep an eye was to join the enemy. Assuming he could get Godo to trust him, he could give guidance and preserve some anonymity by being away from the frontlines. He could wear one of their uniforms, maybe some type of hood or mask, and then the only thing telling about him would be First Tsurugi. If he tempered his skills to something unremarkable, just enough to survive but not impress too much, then it was unlikely that Sephiroth would ever notice him. He’d be distracted enough on the battlefield that he wouldn’t notice Cloud watching. If their camps were close enough, he could watch from the shadows to see his behavior off the field, and he would have somewhere to return to instead of leaving himself undefended in the open to be found. It was his best bet.

Vincent hadn’t given him any concrete advice. He’d poked holes in every plan, finding every single possible flaw, and didn’t attempt to spare Cloud’s feelings. It was good that Cloud was used to this treatment, or it would have knocked him down possibly a few too many pegs. But he knew this was just the Turk training showing and set aside any hurt feelings, instead taking his critiques to heart.

               Their biggest point of contention was whether or not entering the war would disturb the timeline. Cloud had a leg up on things, knowing what was coming and what to prepare for, but if he made things too different, his knowledge would be void. Vincent was adamant that it was better to conserve any valid information they had and try to leave as few ripples in their wake as possible. Cloud, on the other hand, thought the more disruption there was, the better. The further afield they got from his timeline, the more things that were different, the less likely his future was to come to pass. If none of the conditions were met to bring about those events, they couldn’t occur. It wasn’t his plan, necessarily, but if his help swung the tide of the war, and Wutai won, it might help in the long run.

               They argued about this incessantly.

               Still, when they reached the Wutai capital, they agreed without words to set the matter aside. It was not something to discuss while they could be overheard.

               They got as far into the capital as they did because they both knew how to sneak. Vincent had been a Turk, after all, and could be a ghost when he felt the whim. He had shown Cloud enough tricks, and Cloud had enough remnants of Zack’s infiltration training stuck in the back of his head, that he knew what to do. His favorite way of infiltration was to just dress appropriately and pretend he belonged, hiding in plain sight, but that wasn’t an option, here; his blond hair gave him away as foreign.

               Cloud was only faintly surprised that they managed to get into Godo’s tea room unseen, but he settled himself onto a chair at a table and waited. Godo entered eventually, and when he did, he stopped with one hand on the door.

               He opened his mouth to yell, but Vincent slid from the shadows, covering his mouth and pulling him inside and shutting the door with an elbow. Cloud raised an eyebrow at him; they hadn’t discussed this, but he supposed he shouldn’t really be surprised Vincent would insist on stealth. Cloud was going to let Godo call the guards, then knock them all down to prove his skill and get the man to listen to him. But this would work too.

               Vincent was not much of one for a display of strength or hand-to-hand combat, but he was enhanced enough in his way that it was simple for him to wrestle a protesting Godo into the chair across from Cloud.

               “Lord Godo,” Cloud started, speaking the Wutaian Yuffie had taught him, watching the man squirm and talking just loud enough to be heard over his muffled complaints. “Give me fifteen minutes of your time. If you want me to leave after, my friend and I will go without any fuss. Just fifteen minutes.”

               He knew that this would have worked on the Godo of his time. The man grew complacent after his defeat and lost all the fight in him. If presented with a way to get someone to leave without protest, he’d snatch it up; he’d rather get back to sulking. But this was Godo in his prime, before his pride had been dashed. This was still a warrior, a leader that gave Shinra the biggest run for its money in its entire campaign to take control of the world. He might not take the bait.

               Luckily, Godo was enough of a tactician that he settled. He would run less risk of losing men if he attacked Cloud when he was retreating, instead of head on, while he was prepared for a fight. He had nothing to lose by listening, really. So, eventually, he nodded slowly. Vincent released him and stepped back one pace, far enough for breathing space but close enough to loom.

               “What is it?” Godo asked, continuing the conversation in his own tongue. Cloud hoped his vocabulary was broad enough for this; it should be, but Yuffie had taught him more cuss words than battle terminology.

               “I understand that I don’t look it, but I’m here to help. My reasons are my own, but I want to see Shinra brought low. I’m here to enlist.”

               “… You?”

               “The both of us, since he comes with me, but yes.”

               Godo laughed outright, before turning a suspicious gaze to him.

               “Why would one of Shinra’s own want to help _us_?”

               Should have known he’d have to give Godo _something._

               “I have no ties to Shinra. I’m from the Western Continent, yes, but they took my home as much as they’re trying to take yours.” The conquering of Nibelheim had been before he was born, but he heard enough of the older folks grumble about it. “They don’t get to have the world.”

               Godo paused, looking at him appraisingly for a long moment.

               “And what do you have to offer us? Nothing but your blade makes you look a warrior.”

               Cloud tapped the ridge of bone next to his eye.

               “See the glow? Have you seen eyes like this before?”

               Godo’s eyes narrowed.

               “I have. In the inhuman ones that fight us. In their general.”

               “I’m not one, but I move like them. I don’t look like much, but I can keep up. Give me a chance to prove myself—me against whoever you pick. I’ll even go unarmed. When I defeat your best, you might be a little more willing to listen.”

               Godo looked him up and down. These were big words from a little, little man, who had no reason to want to help them. He didn’t understand what he was hoping to get from this, and his lack of apparent motive was disturbing. But Godo stood anyway, waving for Cloud to follow him. Vincent trailed behind Cloud who followed Godo, and the three walked in silence.

               Godo gave sharp orders for someone by a name he said too quick for Cloud to catch to meet them in the field behind the building, and then he led his “guests” there. He walked out into the empty grass, Godo lingering by the building, and Vincent followed him.

               “Is this wise?” he asked quietly in Common.

               Cloud shrugged and said, “I’ve got to prove myself somehow, right? Actions are bigger than words, and all that. I was never good at talking anyway.”

               He plucked his sword from his back and handed it to Vincent, who was the only one he would trust with the blade. Vincent took it easily in hand and went to stand across the field from Godo, before he planted it in the ground at his side. This way, he could guard it, but Cloud could also quickly grab it in a pinch.

               A man came out from the building and shared low words with Godo, wearing what was clearly some sort of uniform. It had combat fatigues, featured a tacky orange on the top, and plate mail armor across the shoulders and upper chest. There was a helmet, and for once, Cloud found he was glad to see one. Cloud didn’t bother to limber up as he waited, just watching in silence with his hands in his pockets. There was one final nod before Godo’s warrior of choice rushed him, a sword held aloft.

               Cloud waited until the very last second before he stepped out of the way of the incoming strike, not even bothering to take his hands from his pockets. He ducked the next one. Sidestepped. Leaned to the side. Crouched a little. Tilted his head. Turned his torso. He continued this dance, absently and easily dodging each incoming strike, the fighter growing more and more agitated as they went.

               Cloud called to Godo in Wutaian, “How long do you want me to do this? I can go for a while.”

               “You have proven you can dodge. Prove you can fight.”

               Without another word, between one blink and the next, Cloud swept the warrior’s legs out from beneath him. Another breath, and Cloud had him pinned to the ground. He looked up at Godo, whose initial reaction was fury. But then he saw it fade, replaced with something thoughtful and appraising.

               Considering how to best use Cloud.

               “I know my skillset best,” Cloud reminded politely, though he still didn’t let the man up. “Let me help you make your decision.”

               Godo looked at him for a long while before nodding.

               “Come inside,” he said, turning and making his way into the building. Cloud climbed off the warrior and, when he was standing, held a hand out to help him up. It was batted to the side, and Cloud shrugged; he tried. He turned to Vincent and jerked his head toward where Godo was disappearing; Vincent grabbed First Tsurugi, pulling it from the ground with ease, and then handed it to Cloud when he was near enough. He sheathed it at his back and trailed after the ruler of Wutai, having to lengthen his stride to keep up (Vincent had no such issues).

               When they were seated back at the table in the tea room, Godo gestured for Cloud to speak.

               “I think you can guess I’m a swordsman. I work best close up. I have experience leading, but I’m best with a small group. Give me a tactical force of your best—or as good as you want to trust me with, until I’ve proven myself fully. We’ll be able to move quick, strike hard, and be out before they know what hit them.”

               Godo drummed his fingers on the table in thought for a long moment before saying, “You’ll get your team. Not my best; you’ll have to earn that.”

               “Fair enough. My only request is a uniform. The one with the helmet.” When Godo raised a brow at him, he gestured toward his head and said, “Blond hair and glowing eyes would stick out a little, don’t you think?”

               Godo nodded his acknowledgement and stood, declaring, “It will be arranged.” He then swept out of the room, leaving Vincent and Cloud alone.

               “Well,” Cloud said, turning to an unimpressed Vincent, “that could have gone worse.”


	6. Chapter 6

               He didn’t like this.

               He didn’t like this one bit.

               He finally found Sephiroth, and he was _not_ what he was expecting.

               Cloud had gotten his team. They were doing something distinctly military: expressing disapproval while following direct orders perfectly. They didn’t want to work under Cloud, didn’t want to listen to him, but the superiors they did respect told them to, so they would. There were only five, plus Vincent and Cloud themselves. They did as they were told, but didn’t hesitate to make it clear in every silent way that they didn’t want to work with him.

               That was fine. He needed their cooperation, not their respect. He was content to earn that. He had only just gotten his foot in the door, after all; being liked was too much to ask for, when he was only barely given this chance.

               He had led AVALANCHE long enough to know how to wield a small troop like this. He knew where they could reasonably infiltrate, how big a group they could strike, where their best position would be. He had to dial back his expectations a bit; these were soldiers, but not people who had been put through the wringer that had been chasing Sephiroth across the globe. They weren’t trained to fight Jenova and her kin, just other men. But they were reasonably good, and once Cloud got a good feel for their abilities, he was able to use them as the strike force they could be.

               Cloud and Vincent did their scouting, not because Cloud didn’t trust the new soldiers to do it, but because he knew they could be quieter; enhancement did that to a person. When they had their perfect strategic points, they moved in and out before Shinra could respond, disappearing into woods and mountain passes as suddenly as they had come. They destroyed supplies and weapons. They picked off the guard rotation to let a larger force strike a sleeping camp.  They were a destabilizing force on the open battlefield, breaking open the front line and moving out for the main forces to swoop in and finish the job. They were flexible, and they were deadly, and Shinra was starting to take notice.

               He knew it was only a matter of time before Sephiroth stepped in to deal with them. There was no one else Shinra would have turned to, when all their other efforts failed. When Cloud heard the guards he was picking off discussing them, he knew they were on a timer.

               He wasn’t sure if he was excited or not, though he was definitely nervous. A part of him, the part that was torn into ribbons every time he had to kill Sephiroth, wanted to see him, see he was redeemable, and know he could spare him. The majority of him, though, had a firm grasp on the fact that this was a distant best case scenario. It had never mattered how reluctant he was to fight his once-hero; it had to be done, and no one else could do it, so that meant he had to step up. That sobering thought was what always quelled any distant stirrings of excitement.

               He wasn’t nervous because he was concerned about the fight. This was Sephiroth, yes, but a Sephiroth without Jenova’s aid. He had never fought Sephiroth before she intervened, so he couldn’t accurately gauge his skill level, but he was certain it wouldn’t be the nightmare he was used to. There was also the fact that Cloud had a _lot_ of experience fighting him. He knew all his tricks and quirks, the strikes where he overextended a hair and the angle of his blade when his guard would be most likely to give. He knew the blows he favored, the parry he relied on when backed into a corner, the way he liked to jerk an elbow toward his opponent’s face to break their guard. This knowledge had become crucial in his era, because Sephiroth knew all _his_ tricks as well. They could predict each other with eerie accuracy, always moving to account for the next strike before it could even begin. The Sephiroth of this time would have no such understanding of Cloud; it would be a severe handicap.

               He was nervous because, no matter any other factors, this was still _Sephiroth_ , and the man would forever live buried under his skin. It was why Gaia had needed to remove him to begin with. He terrified him and infuriated him and filled him with anxiety in turns. Cloud could be many things to Sephiroth, but never indifferent. He would always, always be larger than life in Cloud’s eyes. He was his nightmare given flesh, he was every thought Cloud wanted to forget, he was the slick feeling of fear down his spine. He didn’t think it mattered what incarnation of Sephiroth it was; he was always going to feel like so much _more_ than Cloud could ever hope to be, whether it was in a good way or bad.

               At least, that was what he thought until he met this Sephiroth.

               He hadn’t even intended to go up against him. He had intended on watching him from a _distance_. But suddenly, every warning bell his training had ever given him went off, and he spun on instinct, raising his blade to catch the one that crashed down on him. When it hit his sword with far more weight than he was used to these days, he finally looked to his opponent.

               Gaia, he was a _child_.

               Okay, well, he understood that Sephiroth was never _really_ a child; that had been robbed of him by Hojo’s hands. Cloud knew perfectly well that he was raised as a weapon and nothing else. But when he saw him look so _young_ , he almost believed he was the kid he looked like. There were still hints of baby fat softening his features—though perhaps he only noticed because he knew what he would grow up to look like. His youth wasn’t helped by the surprised look on his face; the expression was minute, in the way Sephiroth’s always were, but he had long since gotten used to reading them for any clue they could provide. And when his eyes widened just a hair, he looked so unlike Cloud’s Sephiroth that he lowered his guard as he took a step back.

               He wasn’t even _dressed_ the same. He was in the classic SOLDIER First uniform; the one Cloud associated more with Zack than anything else, and wasn’t that a blow. His hair was _tied back_ in a high ponytail behind his head, which was something Cloud had _never_ seen before. His Sephiroth was so unearthly simple things like hair in his face never seemed to be a problem. He was still wielding Masamune, and strangely enough, that was a comfort, to Cloud. At least one thing was the same.

               Another similarity was the way his eyes narrowed as he watched Cloud’s guard dip. But instead of wasting the opportunity, he pushed forward, moving to strike Cloud down in his lapse of attention. He wasn’t accounting for the fact that Cloud was essentially as enhanced as he was; he got his blade up in time to block.

               And so began the strangest dance Cloud had ever had with Sephiroth. He didn’t attack one time; he wasn’t here to kill, not yet. He played defense, blocking and dodging and ducking out of the way. He could see from the faint twists of his features and the rising tension in Sephiroth’s shoulders that this was slowly infuriating him. He wasn’t used to being played with this way; no one could keep up with him like this. The few that came close fought desperately, always pressing any advantage they could get. No one had a prayer if they didn’t take the offensive when they could get it, but Cloud never seemed interested in even trying for it. He clearly wasn’t trying his hardest, and that galled Sephiroth.

               It astonished Cloud. Because he had known it wouldn’t be the impossible struggle he was used to, but he didn’t think it’d be this simple. Sephiroth still had the leverage in brute strength, that was true. But Cloud was used to compensating for that. The way he knew every nuance of Sephiroth’s technique meant that every gesture seemed to be loudly telegraphed. His opponent didn’t have quite the finesse he would have in later years. He was accustomed to relying on his enhancements, and it showed. His technique was still excellent, but it wasn’t immaculate the way Cloud was used to. Cloud thought that he—for all that his style was cobbled together from scraps of Zack, what he had taught himself, and what he could steal from Sephiroth—would be able to teach this Sephiroth a thing or two.

               It just wasn’t right.

               It shook Cloud so bad that he let the fight drag on longer than he should have. He should have ended things quickly to leave less of an impression, but his body was moving on auto-pilot, his mind far away in a daze. He couldn’t believe what he was experiencing, and that made him take longer to realize what he should be doing. When he finally snapped out of it at the strange sight of Sephiroth baring a hint of teeth in fury, he parried quickly. He slipped under his guard and knocked an elbow into his sternum hard enough to knock the wind out of him and push him back a quite a few paces. By the time he recovered, Cloud had flipped up into a tree and disappeared.

               He was the last one to return to camp; his men and Vincent had wrapped things up quickly, following procedure without his guidance. The men looked at him curiously, but Vincent was watching him like a hawk. It was clear he had watched him fight Sephiroth; he wondered what tree he had been hiding in.

               Cloud, knowing they were going to have a conversation about it one way or another, resolved to get it over with and ducked into the relative privacy of his tent. Vincent slipped in after him.

               “Well?”

               “He’s—different. Younger than I ever remember him being. Sloppier. Bit more temper. But it was one fight, Vincent, I can’t make a call from that. He’s definitely not who I’m used to, but I don’t know if they’re similar enough to make him a problem. We’ll have to see. I need more time.”

               Vincent nodded.

               “Chaos says there’s something off about him, the way there’s something off about you. Not quite the same, but a similar flavor.”

               Cloud had to fight back his wince.

               “Some of the same experiments done to him were done to me.”

               “He says that it’s buried underneath Gaia’s touch in you, but at the fore with Sephiroth.”

               Cloud shrugged and said, “Maybe it’s from when she sent me back? Maybe it’s because I’ve been dunked in the Lifestream too many times. Who knows.”

               Vincent accepted this pseudo-explanation with ease. There was a pause before he said, “Tell me when you’ve made your call. I will tell you when I have made mine.”

               “About me, or about Sephiroth?”

               “Both.”

               With that, Vincent dipped under the flap of the tent and slipped into the night. Cloud indulged in a gesture he usually tried to bury: he ruffled his hair. He took a deep breath and blew it out slow.

               He didn’t think this was going to get any stranger, but it seemed like it had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry these last two were a little short! just kinda how it ended up being
> 
> for anyone curious, I'm guesstimating Sephiroth's age in this and putting it at 19, which isn't that young compared to Cloud's 24, but he's used to him looking 27-30 (depending on whether or not he aged the three years to AC), so he seems baby in comparison


	7. Chapter 7

               Cloud was generally occupied at all times. It made things significantly more difficult when it came to watching Sephiroth. He knew he was nearby, now, and it frustrated him that he couldn’t watch him at all hours. But, every now and then, he was able to give Vincent a set of instructions for their group and disappear to the Shinra camp.

               He heard some very, very interesting things, lurking behind the officer’s tent, eavesdropping through the canvas.

               “I don’t understand,” said a voice Cloud couldn’t place. “He what?”

               “He deflected me at every turn. It seemed almost easy to him.” This voice he didn’t have to try and place; he didn’t think he could ever mistake Sephiroth’s voice, even if it wasn’t as deep as he remembered.

               “And you said he was in the standard uniform? Orange, combats, helmet?” A different voice, deeper this time.

               “The only thing against regulation was his sword. It looked almost like yours, Angeal.”

               “No one unenhanced could use a sword like mine. Busters are for SOLDIERs,” the second new voice, Angeal apparently, said with confusion thick in his tone.

               “No one unenhanced could keep up with Sephiroth,” the first voice argued. “The question is, who is enhancing Wutai’s troops? They don’t have access to mako.”

               “Maybe they’ve stolen some of ours?” Angeal suggested.

               “We brought very little with us to Wutai; someone would have reported it, if it was taken,” Sephiroth said. Cloud could hear someone pacing, and the footsteps sounded like Sephiroth’s, but he’d never been one to waste movement, much less _pace_.

               “And there are no rogue SOLDIERs we know about?” the first voice said.

               “Genesis, even if there _were_ , we’re the closest SOLDIER has to offer when it comes to keeping up with Sephiroth,” Angeal said, and finally, he had a name for the first voice.

               Genesis scoffed and said, “Obviously. But, to our knowledge, no one is enhancing anyone outside the program.”

               “Someone else may have figured out the process. And that is alarming news for Shinra,” Sephiroth said.

               “Damn the enhancement, it’s more alarming that someone could keep up with you,” Genesis said.

               “Keep up easily. He made a single offensive movement, and it ended the fight. He fled without following through. He could have ended me, but chose not to. An odd sentiment, from a Wutaian soldier.”

               Angeal sounded hesitant when he said, “Maybe he has some other goal.”

               “Other than defending his homeland?” Genesis asked.

               “It’s either that or Wutai suddenly isn’t worried about Sephiroth. Somehow, I don’t think that’s likely.”

               “He can’t be camped too far. We ought to find him,” Genesis said.

               “And do what?” Sephiroth scoffed. “None of us will be able to subdue him, much less eliminate him.

               “Maybe we could, with the three of us,” Angeal suggested.

               “We need more time to judge him, before we attempt that. It would be best to surprise him with all three of us once we have some familiarity with him,” Sephiroth said.

               “But then he’ll also be familiar with us,” Genesis countered.

               “With the level of skill disparity, I doubt it will make a difference.”

               There was silence for a moment; no one seemed to be happy about that idea.

               “We’ll find some way to compensate,” Genesis said as if it was a certainty. “There’s a way around everything.”

               With that, Cloud moved away from the camp; he had heard enough, and it was better to move away while there were their voices to cover the sound of his movement. He was lost in thought the whole way back to camp, and even after he reached it. He nodded once to Vincent as he passed him but slipped into his tent without a word.

               He had no idea who Genesis and Angeal were, or why they were acting like they were Sephiroth’s lieutenants instead of Zack. They had been pretty clear that they were the second in skill to Sephiroth, and possibly a close second, at that. He knew his memory of Shinra was hazy and spotty and overall unreliable, but he didn’t think there was a hole this big. How could he not remember two entire commanders?

               What was worse was, now he didn’t know what to do about them, since he wasn’t sure what happened to them in the first place. Were they threats as well, did they need to be removed? If he was trying to diverge from the timeline, should he spare them or kill them? Did they survive the war on their own, and if so, what did they go on to do? If they survived the war, they couldn’t have lived much longer, because Cloud would have remembered people of their stature, he was sure of it. He was positive _Zack_ was Sephiroth’s lieutenant, by the time they were friends. Which meant death or some sort of fall from grace. He just couldn’t remember which it was. The whole point of this journey in time was to use his foreknowledge to fix the past. But if he couldn’t remember what happened, he was flying blind, and that defeated the entire purpose.

               What was more alarming to him than Genesis and Angeal’s general existence was Zack’s absence. He had been concerned about meeting his friend, about how he would react, what he would give away, what it would mean to be on opposite sides, if he could find a way to protect him on the battlefield. But Zack didn’t seem to _be_ here, and if he wasn’t in Wutai, where was he? He couldn’t possibly still be in the cadet program, could he? He had to be a SOLDIER. But they needed every SOLDIER they had on the front, and Zack _wasn’t here_.

               He didn’t like the amount of unknowns he had here.

               As the time trickled away from him while he thought about this, it became clear he wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight. It wasn’t a huge deal, he didn’t need to sleep every day when it came down to necessity, so he got out of bed. He grabbed his helmet from on top of an ammunition crate and shoved it on his head before ducking out of the tent.

               He meandered through the small camp, but there was little ground to cover between the handful of tents, and everyone seemed to be at least pretending to sleep right now. So he went to find the camp’s patrol and relieve them. The soldier, whose begrudging respect he had been slowly earning, seemed grateful for the chance to sleep instead of pace around their tents. Cloud just nodded in response and stepped away, taking up the patrol.

               It didn’t help his racing thoughts. Patrol didn’t exactly require his full focus, just an absent awareness. He let the sounds of the forest wash over him, certain his training would latch onto anything out of place. His gaze swept the tree-line, and he was equally certain he would notice movement if he saw it. His senses were significantly more enhanced than the rest of his men (save perhaps Vincent), which was why he often took their night patrols anyway. He was simply more efficient at it.

               But the lack of required focus left him turning over the matter of the commanders for hours. Even as he knew dawn was only about an hour off, he couldn’t put the matter aside _or_ find an answer. There was no good solution. He just didn’t have enough information to make a call, much as he didn’t with Sephiroth. It would be far more tedious to gather information on three men than one, but he could do it, if he had to. Or he could ignore them entirely as relatively useless variables; if they didn’t make it into his memory from his own timeline, they wouldn’t impact the events he was concerned about anyway. They would likely sort themselves out. The only real concern he had was whether or not they would interfere with whatever change _he_ was making in this present.

               He was so wrapped in his thoughts that he was certain he missed the first few sounds. But slowly, the sound of footsteps on dried leaves crept into his awareness. He narrowed his eyes and let his gaze find the sound—still too far in the gloom to see, even with his night vision. He changed the angle of his patrol so he would be in the path of the oncoming intruder.

               He stood there, waiting, his hands held loosely at his side. When the man came close enough that he could see his outline in the brush, Cloud started forward at a stroll. No sense in waking his men if he didn’t have to. He could end this quickly and cleanly, no muss no fuss, and get back to his musing.

               The figure slowly becoming clear in the dark was clad in red—or at least, a red coat. It was draped over what appeared to be a SOLDIER First uniform, and that was odd. Cloud remembered only Zack and Sephiroth as Firsts in his own time, but perhaps there were more, this early on. Maybe they had been wiped out in Wutai, and not enough people rose high enough in the ranks to restore their numbers? Maybe this was one of the mystery commanders, considering he was getting away with breaking dress regulations with his coat. The blade in his hand was _certainly_ not regulation (who bothered with coloring their steel?), but then again, Buster and Masamune were the only First Class blades he knew of, and there was no standard between them. Maybe there was no standard at all for their weapons. He couldn’t remember enough to tell.

               It was only the thought that maybe this was one of the commanders that stopped him from rushing forward and ending things before they started. Instead of doing that, he turned at an angle and ran full-tilt into the forest, drawing the man away from the camp. His suspicion that this was either Genesis or Angeal strengthened when the man followed him instead of heading on to the now-undefended camp.

               Cloud was sure to go slow enough to let the man track him; his speed had always been his strength, and it was, to his knowledge, unmatched. He outpaced even Sephiroth when he really tried, but the man made up for it with his superior strength. He waited until he reached an empty clearing before stopping and turning to face the man who continued rushing at him. Cloud sighed (of course it would be a fight) and ducked under the first swing. As he pivoted, he unsheathed First Tsurugi and raised it to block the next.

               The fight that ensued wasn’t so different from his earlier one with Sephiroth. Sephiroth was stronger, faster, his technique a little tighter than this man’s, but that was to be expected—he was the best this timeline had to offer. The fight was less predictable than his one with Sephiroth’s was, though, as he didn’t have this opponent’s style tattooed into his brain. He used magic more than Sephiroth did, casting in the same breath as he swung. It was a little more like Cloud’s own style, interweaving magic like that, though he only bothered when he was being serious or trying to end things quickly. It was engaging in his unpredictability, but not quite enough to make Cloud sweat.

               “Who are you?” Cloud asked; it couldn’t hurt to fish for information, since this SOLDIER was with the fight itself.

               “You don’t know who I _am?_ ”

               “Can’t say I do. You got a name?”

               The man let out a furious scoff and flung a fireball into Cloud’s face; he knocked it away with the flat of his blade.

               “Genesis Rhapsodos. I will not let you forget it.”

               So this _was_ one of the commanders. He guessed that made sense; if there was a third person who was this close to keeping up with Sephiroth, it would have spelled trouble.

               Cloud hummed in recognition, sidestepping the thunder spell that struck the ground where he had just been standing.

               “What are you doing here, Genesis?”

               “Is it not obvious? Looking for the man who raised such hell for Sephiroth.”

               Cloud knew it would likely be goading, but he couldn’t help but ask, “Did you think you’d be more successful than he was?”

               The look of poorly constrained fury meant that it _was_ goading, but really, Cloud was just curious. Realistically, Genesis couldn’t have honestly thought he’d win where Sephiroth lost. It didn’t make sense to run headlong into a battle you knew you would lose, even if the plan was what Sephiroth had intended, and his goal was to gather information on Cloud’s style to win down the road. That plan hinged on the idea that Genesis would be able to get out of the fight in one piece _to_ try later. They didn’t know Cloud, had no idea that he preferred not to kill people who did him no wrong, they couldn’t know that he would spare them. That meant the Firsts were so confident in their ability that they thought they would at least be able to escape under their own power. Did Sephiroth forget how simply their own fight had ended? How did he imagine that he _hadn’t_ been let go?

               “I _think_ ,” Genesis snapped, drawing his thoughts away, “that your ego could be knocked down a peg.”

               Cloud had always thought himself to be relatively humble; he didn’t brag or talk himself up. He just understood that he was the best there was, at the moment, and he only knew that because he had defeated the last man to claim that title. He thought it was an undeserved rank, that _Zack_ had always been the one who should have been the hero in his shoes, but there had been no one to take his spot. He was simply the most enhanced person alive, with just enough training to make those enhancements useful.

               The only person who claimed he had an ego was Yuffie, and only because she knew reminders of his status made him uncomfortable; she could be like a bratty little sister in that she liked getting under his skin when she could and knew it was harmless. She knew that he would know she was teasing and wouldn’t be actually upset with her. He had only ever confirmed this by sniping back with calm sarcasm. Not even Rufus misunderstood his nature enough to think him proud.

               This was why Cloud snorted a laugh, just enough of his face showing under the helmet to let Genesis read his amusement. It only seemed to aggravate him further.

               “Can’t knock down what’s not there,” Cloud told him, using the flat of his sword to guide away another strike.

               “What’s not—your pride is blinding!”

               “Someone’s projecting,” Cloud chided, using his hand to slap away the next strike; it was even sloppier than the last, in his anger.

               “ _Projecting?_ How—”

               That was quite enough of that.

               Cloud twisted his blade around the red one in his opponent’s hand, slipping it from his grasp. He let his hilt go with one hand and brought it down hard on Genesis’s bangle, the hit making it pop open on its hinges and fall to the forest floor with a soft _thud_. Cloud had Tsurugi against his throat in between one blink and the next, leaving Genesis stunned as he came to an abrupt halt.

               “Listen, Genesis. You don’t know me. You’re not ever _going to_ know me, so don’t keep coming around my camp trying to fish for information, or I’ll make sure you can’t keep coming. Pass the same to Angeal and Sephiroth, alright? If you honestly think I’m going to keep fighting you and let you get away enough that you learn how to predict my attacks, you either think too highly of yourself, or not enough of me. Either way, this is your reality check. Don’t let me catch you around my camp again.”

               When Genesis just glared at him, Cloud sighed impatiently and said, “Tell me you understand.”

               “I understand,” Genesis ground out. He was still absolutely furious. Did the man _have_ another emotion?

               Cloud rolled his eyes behind his helmet, but it was good enough. He sheathed his sword, but before Genesis could dive for his weapon, he cast a sleep spell on him. He was faintly surprised that it worked; he would have thought a commander would have a ribbon, but maybe Shinra didn’t have access to them. They _were_ hard to find and even more expensive to buy, if you actually came across someone who carried them.

               He tucked the red blade into one of the spare sheaths for the smaller fragments of First Tsurugi and reattached the bangle to the SOLDIER’s wrist. He then tossed him over one shoulder (a little comical to see, considering their height difference) and carried him back to Shinra’s camp. He didn’t want to be caught _inside_ the camp, and Genesis _was_ a little annoying, so he aimed carefully and tossed him up in a careful arc. He landed draped over a high tree branch. Cloud imbedded Genesis’s blade in the ground between two roots and headed back to his own camp.

               He probably should have just killed the commander to be safe, but he wasn’t sure what effect that would have, and the stakes were a little too high for reckless decision making. He’d talk to Vincent when he woke up—probably soon, given the way the dawn was starting to creep through the trees. He began the trek back to his own camp and readied himself to assist with breaking it down and moving everything so Genesis wouldn’t be able to lead Shinra back to them.

               Maybe he really _should_ have just killed him, and spared himself the hassle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen I know I said this wasn't going to be CC compliant but then I thought about post-AC!Cloud interacting with Genesis and I had to put him and Angeal in


	8. Chapter 8

               Cloud moved his camp across the river and a few miles upstream, leaving Vincent behind to cover their tracks. He wasn’t sure if Turk training would cover that, but when he’d made the request, Vincent had just nodded and left to do so. He hoped it would be enough to keep the SOLDIER commanders off their tail.

               Once they were settled, he left camp in Vincent’s hands, and returned to Shinra’s. He watched from a distance as who must have been Angeal stared up at Genesis, still in his tree, his hands on his hips. He seemed to be trying to decide what to do, and he seemed like he’d been there a while.

               Cloud couldn’t help but feel a _little_ amused. It had been a little petty to toss him up there, a humiliating position to find a commander in, but he thought Genesis deserved it. At least a little.

               “Genesis!” Angeal called.

               Genesis began to stir in his tree, slowly and then all at once. It would have been quicker, but Cloud imagined the effects of the sleep spell were still heavy. When his head shot up, he had to grab the branch quickly, because he overbalanced himself, and began slipping off the branch ass-first. He caught himself, the branch in his armpits, and glared down at Angeal.

               “Why the hell am I up here!”

               “Dunno. I was going to ask you that.”

               Genesis scowled, clearly trying to remember, and then let out a sound of utter indignation.

               “That _bastard!_ ”

               “You found the mystery man, then?”

               “Yes, and I think he cast a sleep spell on me. He must have put me up here. Do you see Rapier?”

               “It’s in the roots of the tree. Do you need help down?”

               “Shut _up_ , Angeal.”

               Genesis dropped from the tree and plucked the blade that was apparently called Rapier from the ground, sheathing it in one slick move. Angeal just raised an eyebrow at him.

               They started to say something, but then there was the crunch of leaves underfoot next to Cloud, and the only thing that stopped him from lashing out was the familiar scent on the breeze. He was used to smelling Sephiroth (floral, woodsy, sword oil) accompanied by either mako or blood or the rank nastiness that was Jenova. But it was just the man, just the faint hint on the air that he only picked up because of his enhancements.

               He thought it strange that his instinct _wasn’t_ to attack Sephiroth, as soon as he heard him nearby and recognized his smell. Maybe it was because he was used to being at least a little helpless to him, despite the way he always struggled. Maybe it was because he hadn’t made up his mind if he wanted to kill him yet, and knew now that he didn’t pose an actual threat to Cloud’s safety. But, even stranger, Sephiroth didn’t seem to be launching into his own attack. He just settled at Cloud’s side, and when Cloud glanced over, he was in parade rest; his blade wasn’t even drawn.

               “I suppose you put him up the tree?” Sephiroth asked, still watching Genesis storm off and Angeal trail after him, amused.

               “I did.”

               “Any particular reason?”

               “He attacked me. I thought I’d bring him back when we were done.”

               “And the tree?”

               “He was annoying.”

               Sephiroth chuckled, and wasn’t _that_ odd? Because it wasn’t the sinister mirth Cloud was used to. Sephiroth’s laugh had always been smug and a little nasty, like everyone else was an insect under a magnifying glass in the sun, to him, and he was enjoying their squirming. This was just simple human amusement.

               “He is, very often. Why did you remain?”

               “I didn’t. I went to move camp, so don’t bother following his directions to where we were; they won’t do you any good.”

               “Noted. Why did you return, then?”

               “Probably for the same reason you’re talking to me now.”

               “Curiosity?”

               “Trying to understand the enemy, more like.”

               “Essentially the same thing. If you like, you can come into camp, and we can have a proper conversation.”

               “Surrounding me with your camp won’t let you take me down, Sephiroth.”

               “No, I didn’t expect it would. I would be able to escape under such circumstances, and I’ve gathered I should expect more from you than I do from myself.”

               Cloud hummed, and said, “Your men would attack me on sight for my uniform alone.”

               “Hardly. If I set a hand on your shoulder to guide you, they’ll assume you’re a prisoner. They’ll find it odd that I bring you to the officer’s tent, but they don’t question me.”

               Cloud thought that must be effective, as he considered the way his own current troops questioned him incessantly, and the way AVALANCHE had never been afraid to talk back. More effective, maybe, but certainly lonelier.

               “I think I’m fine here, Sephiroth,” Cloud said, turning to face the Shinra General as Angeal and Genesis moved out of sight and back into the camp. Sephiroth turned to face him in return, and they regarded each other; as much as they could, with Cloud’s helmet blocking his face.

               “Very well. Why do you fight for Wutai? Your accent is not Wutaian, and they couldn’t have enhanced you, the way that you clearly are.”

               “Personal reasons. What are Genesis and Angeal to you?”

               “Comrades. Who enhanced you?”

               “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Comrades, not friends?”

               Sephiroth pursed his lips, not wanting to admit to such a thing in front of a stranger, but perhaps if he was honest, the other man would be too.

               “I was given to understand you could be both. Try me; I might believe more than you think.”

               “I don’t think you will, and I don’t want to try you. How many SOLDIER Firsts are there?”

               “If you think I will divulge combat-sensitive information to you, while you refuse to give me anything, you’re incorrect.”

               “My name is Cloud. How many Firsts?”

               “That’s not combat related.”

               Cloud clicked his tongue in frustration.

               “What’s your asking price?”

               “Either of my first questions: your motivations or who enhanced you.”

               “Out of the question.”

               “Then I guess you won’t learn how many Firsts there are.”

               Sephiroth already found the question curious; he thought it was common knowledge that the only three were himself, Genesis, and Angeal.

               Cloud just needed to get some kind of bead on where Zack was, any sort of clue, but didn’t want to risk bringing him up by name.

               So Cloud defaulted to the oldest line he had; one so old, it hadn’t even been his, at first.

               “Mako is the life-blood of the Planet, and Shinra is killing her by sucking her dry. Fighting here is the best way to help stop that.”

               Sephiroth, oddly enough, looked _disappointed_ in this idea.

               “You’re one of those ecological fanatics?” His tone said that he found such an idea distasteful.

               When he’d first joined AVALANCHE, he would have agreed. The Lifestream was a religious idea and none of Cloud’s business, at the time. He was too practical, too interested in the day-to-day and his own benefit to see the bigger picture. But then he’d spent enough time with AVALANCHE, and he’d let Bugenhagen explain the details to him, and now that he understood they were essentially burning the souls of all living things on the planet, he felt a little differently about the matter.

               “You’re too wrapped up in Shinra to even understand why being an ‘ecological fanatic’ isn’t a bad thing, and I pity you for that.”

               He didn’t say that he was that way too, once.

               But Sephiroth visibly bristled. Pity was the one thing he didn’t tolerate.

               Before Sephiroth could protest aloud, however, Cloud said, “How many Firsts?”

               “Three.”

               “Including you?”

               “Obviously including me. Angeal and Genesis as well. Did you really not know that, or is this some game?”

               Cloud couldn’t help the smile that curled on his lips.

               “Not where I come from.”

               “Which is?”

               “More information than you’ve traded for.”

               “It’s somewhere on the Western Continent, by the mountains, if I had to guess. That town where they’re starting the rocket?”

               “Do you always have to pry?”

               “It’s best to work with as much information as possible.”

               “Then you understand my reluctance to give it to you. Goodbye, Sephiroth.”

               Sephiroth pursed his lips, clearly put out, and showing much more on his expression than Cloud was used to.

               “Goodbye, Cloud.”

               He didn’t curl Cloud’s name around his tongue, the way Cloud was used to hearing from _his_ Sephiroth. He didn’t try to savor it, try to drink down the taste of it like he could never get enough. He said it clearly and simply, as if they were total strangers; and, he supposed, that’s all they were in Sephiroth’s eyes. Just two men on opposite sides of a line.

               Cloud was glad for his helmet, then, the way it must have hid his expression. He knew he looked bewildered, and a little perturbed, because this wasn’t what he was used to, at all. He’d known, logically, that this Sephiroth would be quite different. That’s why he was willing to give him a chance in the first place. It was still something entirely different to see it firsthand. He thought he might feel strange for a week.

               He just turned and left, making his way back to his own camp in silence.

               He heard, now that he knew to listen, as Sephiroth’s footsteps trailed away back toward the camp. He didn’t know what conversation he was going to have with Angeal and Genesis when he got back, and at the moment, Cloud didn’t care. He was thrown enough by his own interaction that such a thing was too much for him to worry about right now.

               If Vincent looked at him knowingly when he got back, neither of them said anything about it.


	9. Chapter 9

               Cloud was in an unfamiliar position.

               Even more than when he first arrived, he didn’t know what to do about Sephiroth.

               He was used to running blindly after the man. No matter where he was, that was where Cloud had to be; everything else could come second. He had to be stopped, one way or another, and it couldn’t wait. Even when he’d gotten here, Cloud had only taken care of what was on his way to Sephiroth, not able to justify any other stops. Even once he got to _Wutai_ , he’d tracked the man down immediately. He lurked around his camp eavesdropping, knowing he had to make a decision, but also aware that he didn’t have enough information to do so.

               But now they’d had a conversation, a proper one, and Cloud was shaken. Arguably, he was most disturbed by the way Sephiroth had said his name. There had been hints in everything from his uniform, to his hairstyle, to the baby fat around his cheeks, that this was not his Sephiroth. But nothing cemented it like the indifferent way he’d addressed him. He had never addressed Cloud directly before the reactor, and he never said his name without fascination after it. He couldn’t parse the two versions of the man. He didn’t know what to make of what he was seeing, because it was so foreign to him.

               It made him stall. He stopped going to Shinra’s camp, despite the way that it was always easy to find—it was huge, and they covered their tracks poorly. He knew he was stalling, that he still needed to come to a decision, that, if Sephiroth needed to be eliminated, it was better to do it as soon as possible. But, he reasoned, Nibelheim didn’t happen until years after the war. Even if the worst was going to come, he had time. There was no real reason to rush.

               (He was absolutely avoiding Sephiroth because he was plain old freaked out by the differences. Sue him.)

               That didn’t mean he abandoned his post. He understood that there were more tactical locations he could move, if he really wanted to bring the war to a swift end. But he also knew that leaving the three Firsts unchecked was a bad idea. They would wreak havoc, and no one on Wutai’s side would be able to keep up with them. He was needed here to balance things out. If he was really, truly serious about winning the war, he could have gone to Shinra’s camp and destroyed it with a high level Quake spell and a few Fire spells to follow. The SOLDIERs would all make it, he was sure, but it would tank their supplies, all their medical personnel, and their troopers. He kept the idea on the backburner.

               In the meantime, he provided a battlefield balance to the Firsts. His team, at this point, had worked with him long enough to understand how their unit was best used in combat. Even if the individual soldiers didn’t know the best plan, Vincent was a quick study, and knew his methods by now; he could lead when they fell into disorder. That left Cloud free to stymy the Firsts.

               Sephiroth was his priority; he always would be. If he was on the field, and not commanding from the sidelines, Cloud found him. He was never hard to spot; he was unnecessarily tall, his hair was like a banner, and the troops fell in front of him in swaths that marked his path clearly. Cloud always turned up in front of him before long, and it was always a repeat of their initial battle.

               Sephiroth tried every trick he knew, and even a few moves he made up on the spot. Unfortunately, even those new ones were tricks his future self had used, which meant they were equally predictable to Cloud, and even easier to block, because Sephiroth hadn’t fully mastered them yet. Cloud never once went on the offensive. He was just a rock in Sephiroth’s path, never moving out of the way and impossible to wear down.

               After so long of this, they tried ganging up on him. Genesis must have insisted on trying first, because he was the next one to join the fray. Cloud still had a little difficulty predicting him, with the unfamiliarity of his style, but it wasn’t enough that he had to break First Tsurugi from one piece. He handled the two, though he did so with less ease than he handled Sephiroth alone. It wasn’t quite as challenging as dealing with the Sephiroth he was used to, but it was a closer level.

               There was a little while of this, before they switched, Angeal replacing Genesis, because someone had to command the troops, which meant all three couldn’t fight him at once. Angeal was significantly easier to fight than Genesis, but not for the reason he expected. He fought alarmingly like Zack, whose style Cloud had stolen enough of to make the way Angeal fought not unlike his own. He had enough borrowed movements that he’d gotten from Sephiroth and tricks he had made up himself that it wasn’t quite the same, but his movements were familiar. They were almost like the groundwork Zack’s technique was laid on, and Zack’s had been his own foundation. But he didn’t know of any connection between Zack and Angeal, or why they would fight so alike in the first place.

               Angeal _did_ manage to get a single hit on Cloud, when he first arrived in the fray. It was because he was so alarmed at seeing the Buster Sword in another man’s hands that it was like he had seen a ghost.

               He was incredibly sloppy through that entire fight, just barely keeping up, because his mind was whirling. How did Angeal get the Buster Sword, when he had always known it to be Zack’s blade? What was Zack fighting with? There had to be some kind of connection between them, between their fighting styles and the blade they apparently shared, but Cloud couldn’t imagine what it was. Furthermore, Angeal wasn’t even _using_ it right. He used the flat of the blade almost exclusively, until he finally turned fully serious toward the end of the fight, when he tried to press the advantage of Cloud’s disorientation.

               That had broken Cloud free from his state, because when he used the actual blade, his style was so like Zack’s that fighting it required no thought at all.

               The next time they met on the battlefield, it was Sephiroth and Angeal together again, as they seemed to think this would give them an advantage. But now Cloud had gotten the time to come to terms with the strangeness that was Angeal—the invisible tie he had to Zack didn’t matter, the familiarity of Buster and the style would only be an asset, once he got his head out of his ass. It was time to take advantage of what he knew instead of letting old ghosts haunt him.

               When he fought them again, it was a breeze. He was fighting two men whose combat styles he knew inside and out, who wielded the two blades he knew better than any others, save perhaps his own. It was all so familiar that he could have done it in his sleep. They both seemed surprised and frustrated by the sudden and complete turnaround, but had no real way to combat it.

               From there, they swapped off and on, whether it would be Angeal or Genesis who joined Sephiroth. They hoped that keeping Cloud on his toes would make him slip at some point, but he was too well trained and too accustomed to fighting more difficult enemies.

               He didn’t understand that they were biding their time.

               He would have found out sooner, if he was still eavesdropping at their camp. But he was still stalling after the strange conversation he’d had with Sephiroth and unwilling to risk a repeat. He wished, now, that he’d forced himself to go anyway. It would have been better than the nasty shock he’d gotten.

               When he arrived on the battlefield, he tracked down Sephiroth much the way he always did. Genesis joined not long after, and this wasn’t very surprising, either. What _was_ strange was that Angeal also entered the fray, making Cloud wonder who had been left in charge of the troops.

               He didn’t have much attention to spare, however. The three were all good in their own right, fantastic really, and their teamwork was beyond solid. The way they flowed around each other with breathless ease that reminded him of himself fighting with AVALANCHE. He had to actually work to keep up with them. He needed to disengage a second blade, if for no other reason than to keep up with the sheer number of swords coming at him. Pulling out another sword had bought him a moment of time, as none of them had been expecting the move, and it turned out that he needed that moment more than they did.

               His eyes had been flickering around the battlefield, trying to pick out a SOLDIER Second uniform that was leading or commanding in some way. Someone had to take the helm while these three were occupied, and they wouldn’t let anyone less than a Second do it.

               He hadn’t expected that, when he finally found the new CO, it would be Zack.

               He’d almost dropped his weapons in his shock. He hadn’t expected to see him. He hadn’t thought he was _in_ Wutai. But here was, alive and whole, grinning that familiar, broad grin that all but stopped Cloud’s heart to see. A thousand memories, some half-forgotten, flashed through him at the sight. His breath caught in his throat. He’d known, abstractly, that Zack was alive somewhere, but it was another thing to _see_ it. And to see him so _young_ , without that beaten-but-not-broken, come-and-get-it attitude he’d had toward the end, that said he’d fight tooth and nail for any scrap he had left and you’d have to kill him before you could take from him. He was young, and vibrant, and laughing as he fought, and didn’t seem tarnished yet, like the world hadn’t shown him how nasty it could be, despite the fact that he was in the middle of a war. But, then again, he guessed it hadn’t—the labs hadn’t gotten him yet.

               He was snapped out of his reverie by the familiar feeling of Masamune piercing him, accompanied by a fire spell smacking into his helmet and knocking it clear off his head.

               When he looked over, Sephiroth looked more shocked than Cloud was to have a hit finally land. Cloud, now that Sephiroth could see him, didn’t look surprised at all, just exasperated. It was an intimately familiar position for Cloud to be in, after all. It was far from the first time Masamune had speared him, and he sincerely doubted it would be the last.

               He grabbed the blade and pulled it from him, knocking Sephiroth off balance in the process, and reentered the battle with an urgency he didn’t have before. For the first time, he began interweaving spells into his combat, the way he only ever bothered to do when he was fighting Sephiroth, or so surrounded by high level monsters that it would have been hopeless otherwise. He didn’t bother disengaging more of his swords (it would be difficult to keep track of them all on a battlefield with so many combatants), but two blades with his spellwork was enough. The little ground the Firsts had gained in getting accustomed to how he fought was dashed by this new inclusion, and they were retreating earlier than he expected.

               Cloud didn’t bother with his helmet—there was no point in it, now. They had seen him, seen his blond hair and mako eyes, and it might buy him a second more time in hiding if he had a helmet, but First Tsurugi had given him away the second they learned to look for it. No, the helmet wasn’t important right now. What _was_ important was getting the ever-living hell _out of there_.

               Cloud bolted in a way he hadn’t since he arrived. This was the way he fled Seventh Heaven in Edge, when affection and his responsibilities became so cloying they choked. This was the way he fled when he was chased by nightmares he couldn’t forget and didn’t know how to ignore. This was the way he fled for Fenrir before throwing himself on and racing away, his heart racing in his ears, making up excuses about imaginary deliveries because, maybe if he kept moving, the past wouldn’t catch up with him.

               The past was catching up with him now, in every way he had dreaded since he arrived.

               Cloud ran blindly. He didn’t keep track of where he was going, what direction he was headed, what landmarks he passed. If he was someone who spent any less time in the wilderness, he would have no prayer of getting back to camp once he settled, but he trusted his instincts enough to let that concern go by the wayside. He focused only on pumping his legs as fast as they would go, the burning in his lungs, and the rushing of blood in his ears.

               Zack was here. Zack was here, in Wutai, and Cloud didn’t know if he was meant to be here or not at this point in the timeline. If he had changed things enough that they’d brought him early, then his safety wasn’t guaranteed. If the timeline had changed that much, then he couldn’t be certain he’d survive the war, and if Zack _died_ , it would crush him. He didn’t know if he’d be able to do what Gaia sent him here to get done. He didn’t think he could bear watching Zack die twice, especially not this version, so young and hopeful with the stars in his eyes. This Zack he felt a crushing need to _protect_ , from everything and anything, at all costs. He had half a mind to put aside all his other pursuits just to guard the man and be sure he came to no harm.

               And that was foolish. Because, even if he was young and less experienced and not wielding the Buster Sword, this Zack was still a SOLDIER. He was a warrior who could defend himself, who was high enough ranking to be fourth in line for command. He didn’t need Cloud, but Cloud needed him, needed him alive and healthy and whole, and he didn’t know what would happen if he saw Zack go down, just that it wouldn’t be good for anyone.

               So Cloud set his mind on the only course of action still available to him. Zack was in Wutai now, and Cloud felt, arguably, more protective over him than a mother Nibel dragon felt over her young. The best way to be sure that Zack made it out of Wutai was to end the war as quickly as possible.

               No more stalling. No more dallying, or waiting, or weighing options. He was pulling out the stops, going to do anything he could think of to bring the war to a swift close.

               Zack wasn’t going to die on his watch.


	10. Chapter 10

               Cloud had known, months ago, that if he really wanted to end the war quickly, there were more strategic locations for him to be in. He had also known, though, that leaving the Firsts unattended was asking for disaster. These two things couldn’t be dealt with at the same time, but he did his best.

               Cloud was, largely, leaving his troops in Vincent’s hands now. When on the battlefield proper, he was occupied with the Firsts, all three of them now, and had no hope of dividing his attention. When he wasn’t on the battlefield, or grabbing the scant handfuls of sleep he needed to keep going, he was elsewhere. He went as far afield as he could make it and return by dawn, and when you considered his running speed and endurance, that ended up being quite a distance. He hit a multitude of Shinra camps, wrecking them. He destroyed their supplies, their supply _lines_ , their equipment and weapons and vehicles. He broke their radios and did everything short of killing their chocobos because, after raising them for so long, he didn’t have the heart to do it, no matter how beneficial it would be for his cause.

               There were fewer and fewer battles, now. Shinra was scrambling to get their legs back beneath them, and Cloud kicked them out from under them every chance he got. He was a one-man army, as much or more so than Sephiroth was, and he had no one telling him to follow orders or the proper way to win a war. Godo had tried giving him orders at the beginning, but Cloud had always ignored them, and when it became clear that his way worked, Godo stopped bothering. _Especially_ now that it was starting to look like the war would come to an end sooner than anyone anticipated.

               Cloud knew that the Shinra leaders had to be in a panic. Good. He wanted them unbalanced and seeing unclearly, because that meant they would make rash decisions. Hopefully, a rash decision like calling for peace negotiations before they actually needed to. He was aware that there would be some panicked strikes back, before that happened, but they could compensate.

               The unfortunate thing was that Shinra decided to follow his lead. The SOLDIER Firsts were being sent out to destabilize Wutai’s camps the way he was doing to theirs. This wasn’t a huge issue; Cloud just split his time. He stopped hitting Shinra camps as often, and spent more time guarding Wutai’s. It meant he had more clashes with the Firsts, but he was largely indifferent to them, now.

               Sephiroth seemed to delight in finding Cloud there instead of an undefended camp. He enjoyed going up against someone stronger than him; they both knew he hadn’t had a proper challenge in quite a while. Genesis’s initial fury dimmed the more times they went against one another, as he too seemed to take it as a learning opportunity, a chance to grow his skills by fighting against a stronger combatant.

               Angeal didn’t bother. He saw Cloud in front of the camp and knew he wouldn’t be able to get anything done; he even seemed a little relieved to not have to wipe out a camp, and that was a strange sentiment, from a SOLDIER. He didn’t bother fighting Cloud, as he had no burning desire to be the best, and no desperate longing for a challenge—he had Sephiroth for that, if he wanted one. He waved lazily at Cloud when he saw him and turned back the way he came.

               This left Wutai and Shinra in a strange dance. Their formal battles tended to go nowhere; their best operatives were tied up against one another, and those left leading the troops were of about the same quality. Vincent’s command balanced out Zack’s, making it a toss-up who won outright scuffles. The real damage was being done in the dead of night by their best trained warriors, or warrior (in Wutai’s case). Wutai’s progress had slowed once the Firsts began hitting camps, but it continued to outpace Shinra’s.

               Cloud was more willing to neglect his body’s needs. The Firsts hadn’t come up against true necessity, as of yet. They didn’t, with perhaps the exception of Sephiroth as a result of the labs, know the real limits of their enhancements. As Cloud chased Sephiroth around the globe in his own time, he had learned his. He knew exactly how much food and water he needed, exactly how much sleep he had to get before he dropped, and he had the motivation to go on the bare minimum. He had to protect Zack, now. This was urgent, and it couldn’t wait. He wouldn’t draw things out for creature comforts. The Firsts, while they wanted to win, were not quite so motivated. They weren’t desperate the way Cloud was.

               Wutai was outpacing Shinra in its progress, but by a small margin, because of the way Cloud was tied up with defending camps. It helped some when he talked Vincent into helping defend; he was well aware that the gunman was at least equivalent to a First.

               He probably should have expected their next move. After all, it made a certain amount of sense. But it was something he was so reluctant to even consider that it blindsided him when it happened.

               Cloud returned from a camp raid with two hours until dawn. It was enough time for him to drop to his bedroll in his tent, catch those few hours, and then head out with the light for another battle. He was nearing his limit with his need for sleep, after all, and it was better to catch what he could when he had the opportunity. He smelled of smoke from the fires he had lit, and his face and hair were sooty. He had stopped bothering with his helmet once Genesis had knocked it off his head in the battle when he first saw Zack. He was grateful to not have it anymore; it had limited his vision.

               When he came wandering back into camp, he was fighting back a yawn and scrubbing a hand over his face, uncaring for how he smudged the ash there. He’d wash it off before he slept. His exhaustion narrowed his attention down to tunnel vision; he only had eyes for his tent. He’d nearly gotten inside it before he heard Vincent call his name. He sighed and turned, making his way back to the center of camp, where he’d heard Vincent’s voice come from.

               He made it most of the way there before he froze mid-step.

               Next to the campfire, Vincent was standing with his arms crossed, staring down at one Zack Fair, who was sitting on the ground, his hands tied behind his back with a length of rope that they all knew he could break out of if he really wanted to.

               Cloud almost got himself moving when Zack turned to look at him. He gave him a wide smile, as if they were old friends instead of enemies on opposite sides during a war, and Cloud’s heart stopped in his chest. He was relatively sure he kept his face schooled, but he wished for his helmet anyway, because surely _something_ must have slipped, and Zack was a master at reading people.

               He had the ghost of Zack’s laughter in his ears, the word “Spike” echoing not long after, and Cloud swallowed hard.

               It took physical effort to get his feet moving again, but he did it. He marched over and knelt down behind Zack, pulling the rope apart with his hands. They had all known it was a formality, but seeing Zack tied up was giving him double-vision of the labs, and he wouldn’t stand for it. As Zack rubbed his wrists and flashed him a grateful smile, Cloud carefully regulated his breathing and went to stand beside Vincent. He just hoped the crackle of the fire was loud enough Zack’s enhanced hearing wouldn’t pick up the way his heart raced.

               “He came to hit the camp,” Vincent explained as Cloud fell in line beside him, but Cloud was already shaking his head.

               “He came to talk.”

               Zack blinked up at him, laughed brightly and tilted his head, still grinning.

               “How did you guess that?”

               _Because I know you, and you always tried to talk your way out of trouble_ , Cloud thought, burying his emotion in a sigh.

               “Because they would have sent a First for a raid, especially if they knew this was my camp. I just don’t know how they imagine you’ll get anywhere with words.”

               Cloud did know how they came to that conclusion. Zack could talk a Marlboro around to his side, if given half a chance. Sephiroth had no such skill, Genesis was abrasive, and Cloud hadn’t talked to Angeal, but he didn’t imagine he was that much better. Sephiroth, for one, was a military genius; he would know that it was just a matter of time before Shinra would lose. He was going to use every trick he had up his sleeve before admitting defeat, but it was fast approaching, now that Cloud was serious. He didn’t know that he had sent Cloud’s biggest weakness to him, and he couldn’t _let_ him know that.

               Zack winked at him, and Cloud got double-vision again, replaying a dozen joking winks he’d been given. It took physical effort not to shake his head to clear it.

               “Try talking to me and find out.”

               Every bone and muscle and sinew in Cloud _yearned_ for that. He wanted nothing more than to indulge, to sit down with Zack and talk about literally anything. He wouldn’t even mind if it was the war. He’d happily describe all his plans, all his next-steps, outline exactly how he planned to win the war, if it just gave him a chance to hear Zack’s voice. He would give damn near anything to just breathe the same air again. Zack was the brother he’d never had, his best friend, his savior, and he could never repay the debt he owed this man. He wanted to do everything in his power to start trying to pay him back, though, give him any and everything he had, anything that might make him keep smiling like that. This was the smile he remembered from Shinra, not the one he remembered from the labs or from after. Those had been hard, bitter, sarcastic, half-snarls some of the time; those were equally precious, but these made Cloud sentimental. These stirred every protective instinct he had.

               And that was what had Cloud giving Zack a flat, “No.”

               Zack blinked in surprise and said, “No?”

               “No,” he reiterated. “I have nothing to say. Get out of my camp.”

               If he indulged Zack, indulged _himself_ , he would give away everything. And, despite how good it would feel in the moment, despite how it might meet Zack’s wishes in the short term, he couldn’t allow what it would do in the long run. If he gave Zack anything that risked him winning the war, he was putting Zack in greater danger. If he wouldn’t die in the war, he was risking sending him back to the labs after. To lose the war was to risk failing not only Zack, but the mission Gaia had given him. He couldn’t let Nibelheim and everything that happened after come to pass. A little wish fulfillment wasn’t worth that kind of risk. And, besides, Cloud was used to denying himself the things he wanted.

               Zack stood, but gave him the kicked puppy look that worked on absolutely everyone.

               Cloud only hardened, his face and eyes going dead, as he cut himself off from his emotions, the way he had taught himself when Sephiroth had been in his head and he’d had to separate himself or lose control of his body. Putting up mental barriers was a skill he had developed thoroughly, a talent he was an outright master in, and he built this one as thick as any he had ever put between himself and Sephiroth.

               The kicked puppy look morphed into confusion. Cloud looked pointedly toward the edge of camp and jerked his head that way.

               “But—” Zack started.

               “ _Out_ , Zack.”

               Zack sighed and ruffled his hair, reminding Cloud that he was the source of that old nervous tic he used at times, and slowly made his way from the camp, looking over his shoulder every now and again at Cloud, who stared him down until he was out of sight.

               It was only when he had completely vanished into the tree line that Vincent said, “Wasn’t that—”

               “Yeah. That was the Zack.”

               His heart tightened at just the thought.

               He had given Vincent all the details on the future that he had, over the months they had spent in Wutai. He knew the whole sordid affair, and exactly what Zack meant to him.

               “I would have thought you would want to talk to him.”

               Cloud sighed and ruffled his hair, unconsciously mirroring Zack (Vincent picked up on it).

               “Of _course_ I wanted to. But, if I did, I wouldn’t have been able to shut my mouth. I can’t put everything on the line just to have one talk. No matter how bad I want it.”

               There was a long silence, and when he looked up again, Vincent was watching him appraisingly.

               “You would have made a good Turk.”

               Cloud’s nose wrinkled at that.

               “I don’t take that as a compliment.”

               Vincent shrugged.

               “Take it how you like. It’s the truth. Do you understand how many fresh Turks struggle to master themselves, the way you just did? It is the most difficult skill to teach.”

               Cloud scowled and grumbled, “Yeah, way to make me feel great about it. I’m going to sleep—I’ll see you at dawn.”

               He turned his back on the man and went to his own tent, where he scrubbed his face clean with a rag, not bothering with his hair before he tucked himself into his bedroll.

               He had more trouble sleeping than he would have liked.

               He would have had even _more_ trouble sleeping, had he been aware of the conversation occurring at the Shinra camp.

               Zack walked into the officer’s tent, where Genesis, Angeal, and Sephiroth were all waiting, despite the early hour.

               “How did it go?” Angeal asked when he walked in.

               “ _Weird_ ,” Zack said, ruffling his hair as he dropped into a chair.

               “What is that supposed to mean?” Genesis asked.

               “I mean, first of all, that Cloud guy wasn’t even there when I showed up. It was the gunman in the red cape, you know the one? Leads Cloud’s troops now that you guys keep him occupied?”

               “We’re familiar,” Sephiroth said, setting aside the papers he had been working on.

               “He got the drop on me, and I mean _bad_. I didn’t even hear him, he was just suddenly _there_ , gun at my head,” Zack said, miming a pistol at his temple with his fingers. “Told me not to say a word and led me back to camp. He tied my arms behind my back with some rope and had me sit, and I mean that’s not a big deal, right? He should know better than to use rope. Obviously I just stayed there, because I was waiting on their leader, but how are you going to tie a SOLDIER up with rope? Everyone knows we can break out of that. But he didn’t even keep the gun on me, just watched me with his arms folded, like he was completely confident he could stop me if I tried to run.”

               “Bizarre, but not the crux of the issue,” Genesis said, tapping his fingers impatiently on the table. “Where was Cloud?”

               “It looked like he went to hit one of our camps; he was sooty when he finally showed up. And it was _weird_. He saw me and he froze in place, and I swear to you, he looked like he saw a ghost.”

               “Have you met before?”

               “ _Never_. But it gets weirder. He comes over, and he guesses almost immediately that I was there to talk to him; didn’t believe for a second that I was there to raid. He gave some reasoning about how they would have sent you guys instead, but he didn’t even have to pause to think about it, he just _knew_. I turned on the charm, and I mean _hard_ , full on doe-eyes and everything, and he wouldn’t even consider talking to me. He wouldn’t let me get a word out. But that’s not the weirdest part.”

               “Are you sure?” Angeal said, looking incredulous. “Because that’s weird. I’ve seen you talk Rufus Shinra around, and I’ve never seen someone as stubborn once his mind is made up.”

               “No, get this; he knew my name.”

               “… _What?_ ” Genesis said, his fingers freezing in their tapping.

               “Right? I tried one last time before he kicked me out of camp and he just said, ‘Out, Zack,’” Zack said, pitching his voice lower as he mimicked Cloud, whose voice wasn’t actually that deep. “Have you guys mentioned me or something?”

               “ _No_. We’ve barely managed to talk to him—he didn’t know _my_ name, when we spoke, and I had been in Wutai significantly longer than you had by that point,” Genesis said, his brow furrowed in confusion and irritation.

               “Then it _really_ makes no sense,” Zack said. “How the hell could he know that?”

               “Maybe he’s still lurking around camp?” Angeal offered. “That’s where you found him, right, Sephiroth?”

               “I did. I have yet to see him since. I take it that being caught scared him off,” Sephiroth admitted.

               Genesis shook his head, saying, “I maintain he isn’t the type to be scared off by anything. He could look death in the eye and not flinch.”

               “If he could even make eye contact—I didn’t realize how _short_ he is, how does he pull off what he does?” Zack said.

               “Enough mako can make up for pretty much anything,” Angeal said. “The issue with that, is we still don’t know where he _got_ enhanced. But we’ve all seen the glow in his eyes now, it’s clear he has been.”

               “I appreciate a riddle as much as the next man, but this one is particularly vexing,” Genesis said, tapping his fingers again.

               “Zack, try again another night,” Sephiroth ordered. “Perhaps he can be worn down.”

               “You got it,” Zack said. “Not sure it’ll work, though. He seems to have will like iron, even though his heart was racing the whole time.”

               “It what?” Genesis said.

               “Yeah, it was going like it was trying to get out of his chest. I’ve seen nervous cadets meet Sephiroth for the first time and have a slower heart rate. I dunno what that was about.”

               Genesis groaned and put his forehead in his palm.

               “This will never make sense.”

               “Then we’ll have to make it,” Sephiroth said, with such outright conviction, that they believed he’d be able to.


	11. Chapter 11

He should have expected this. 

 

Cloud stood at the edge of his camp, his hands on his hips, staring down Zack, who was smiling broadly at him and waving as he approached. 

 

Of course he wasn’t going to just give up. That would be too easy. Cloud’s life never went that smoothly, and he really should have seen this coming, the second he successfully got Zack out of his camp the first time. 

 

“Go away,” Cloud called as Zack got closer. 

 

He laughed brightly and said, “See, I don’t think you actually want me to do that.”

 

Cloud pressed his lips together. He wasn’t that transparent, was he?

 

“I do,” Cloud lied. “I really, truly do. Get out of my camp.”

 

“If you wanted me gone, you’d tell me as much with your sword. But it’s still on your back, and your hand hasn’t even twitched toward it.”

 

Cloud scowled as Zack reached him, propping his hands on his hips, mirroring Cloud, but with a wide grin. 

 

“Ask your Firsts; they come at me, I don’t rush them.”

 

A technicality. He didn’t avoid them the way he was avoiding fighting Zack, because he  _ was _ . The thought of crossing blades with him in a real fight, not the beginner-level training they’d done in Shinra that  he remembered more from Zack’s memories than his own, made his head spin and his stomach turn. 

 

“Turns out you’ve talked with most of them, too. Maybe let me try?”

 

“No. Get out.”

 

“Aw, c’mon, Cloud, what could it hurt?”

 

Cloud’s head swam dangerously, the words echoing in his ears, pulling up half-buried memories. He didn’t know how many times Zack had used that phrase on him, but apparently, it was a lot. 

 

“ _ No _ , Zack.”

 

“Y’know, this whole thing’s a little weird. ‘Cause I never told you my name, and the others say they haven’t, either. And you won’t talk to me, but you’ll entertain the others. I do something to you that I don’t remember?”

 

No, he did something  _ for _ him that, if Cloud had his way, he would never experience, much less remember. 

 

He hadn’t realized that Zack hadn’t told him his name. He couldn’t believe he’d made such a large slip. But it did confirm that he needed to end this now, before he gave anything else away. 

 

“Get out, or I’ll knock you out and drag you back to your camp myself.”

 

“I’ll just keep coming back to pester you.”

 

“Then I’ll start casting Sleep spells on sight. I’m not doing this with you.”

 

“But you’ll do it with the Firsts? It doesn’t make strategic sense for you to leave any of us alive, Cloud, but you have. Why?”

 

“Just remember that I warned you about the Sleep spells.”

 

Zack opened his mouth to say something else, but then Cloud cast, and he dropped, almost so fast that Cloud couldn’t catch him. As it was, he had to dive to get an arm under his shoulders in time, and spare him the headache that would have come if his head smacked into the ground. 

 

He lifted Zack in his arms instead of tossing him over his shoulder, the way he had done with Genesis. He knew he didn’t have to treat Zack delicately; he was intimately familiar with the level of abuse Zack could handle. He’d seen more than enough in the labs to know he didn’t have to be gentle. But he didn’t have the heart to do anything else, so he cradled his once-friend to his chest and carried him back to the Shinra camp. 

 

Where Sephiroth was standing at the edge, waiting for him. 

 

Fuck. He should have been smarter than to fall for this. 

 

As it was, he was here, and committed, and neck-deep in the trap he should have seen coming. So, instead of turning tail, he marched directly up to Sephiroth, and handed Zack over wordlessly. It was very different than when he had tossed Genesis up a tree, and by the look on Sephiroth’s face, they both knew it. 

 

“I told him, but I’ll tell you the same. Keep sending him, and I’ll deliver him back to you every time. I won’t say anything more to him than I have.”

 

“Perhaps you’ll say more to me. Come into camp, Cloud. We ought to talk.”

 

“Unless it’s about your imminent surrender, we don’t have anything to discuss.”

 

“I’ve spoken to Shinra, and tried to make the writing you’ve put on the wall clear to them. They don’t believe that the conclusion of this is foregone, yet, but it might help speed things along if I know your terms.”

 

Cloud paused to look at him consideringly as Sephiroth shifted Zack in his arms. 

 

“You can’t possibly be giving up already.”

 

“As the only person I have met who has an understanding of warfare that rivals my own, I expect that you know as well as I do that there is no way for me to turn this around.”

 

Cloud thought that was generous; he had no formal knowledge of warfare. He just knew how to lead a small team and the way Sephiroth thought. But, he supposed, when you were going to war with Sephiroth, that would count for quite a bit. 

 

“I mean, yeah, but I didn’t think you’d admit to it.”

 

“I have my pride, but I also have sense. Come into camp so I can put Zack down while we talk.”

 

Cloud paused, then sighed. He didn’t want to, but if it would help bring things to a close, it was better to do it. He needed this war over, if he was going to keep Zack safe. 

 

“Fine. But it’ll be you and I, not you, me, Genesis, and Angeal.”

 

“If you’d like.”

 

Without another word, Sephiroth turned and led the way back into camp. Cloud trailed him, his eyes skittering over the troopers and SOLDIERs they passed. They clearly recognized him, but when he was following after Sephiroth, they apparently knew not to interfere. 

 

Sephiroth ducked into a tent, and before Cloud could follow him in, he heard Angeal say, “Gaia, is he alright? I  _ told _ you this was a bad—oh.”

 

Cloud made eye contact with him as he entered the tent, dropping the flap behind him. 

 

“Sleep spell, that’s all,” he explained, watching as Angeal came to take Zack from Sephiroth, checking him over as he did so. He nodded. 

 

“Thanks. For not hurting him.”

 

“Have I ever hurt any of you?”

 

They all knew he didn't mean the scores of Shinra troops, dead by his hand. 

 

Genesis climbed to his feet, saying, “No, and that’s something we’ve been wondering about.”

 

Cloud hummed and said, “That sucks. Because I agreed to talk terms alone with Sephiroth, not explain anything to all of you.”

 

Genesis’s eyes cut to Sephiroth, blazing as they made contact, only flaring brighter with mako as Sephiroth shrugged. 

 

“You know how little room we have to negotiate. Did you imagine I was going to squander it on something so small?”

 

“So  _ small— _ “ Genesis started to snarl. 

 

“Gen,” Angeal interrupted. “I can’t juggle you and Zack right now. Come on, let’s go.”

 

“ _ But—“ _

 

“Let’s  _ go _ .”

 

Genesis sighed in frustration and disgust before storming from the tent. Angeal trailed after him, nodding briefly at Cloud, who returned the gesture, before he left as well. 

 

Sephiroth led the way to a table before sitting in one of the chairs, gesturing for Cloud to do the same. He followed suit, dropping into the chair with far less grace. 

 

“So, why are we talking, when terms should be worked out between Godo and Shinra?” Cloud asked. 

 

“Because we have far more sense and will be able to reach a reasonable conclusion, that I trust we will both be able to talk our respective superiors into, if we take the time to present it properly.”

 

“Superior” was a generous word for what Godo was to Cloud; he’d never followed his orders, strong-armed him into being allowed his position in the first place, and still thought of him more as his annoying-but-much-loved friend’s uninterested father than his leader. But he understood what Sephiroth was driving at. 

 

“Here’s the thing, Sephiroth. I’m not inclined to give Shinra anything, and I don’t have to, because I know I can win this. The body count will be higher if we fight it out, but I’d rather that than give Shinra even nominal control over Wutai, or let them put up a single reactor here.”

 

“Then give Shinra neither.”

 

Cloud’s brow furrowed. He wasn’t expecting that. 

 

“What’s your price, then?”

 

“Trade yourself for peace.”

 

Cloud blinked. 

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Shinra knows very little about the details of what is happening, here. But when it is made clear that there is someone able to fight their top three SOLDIERs to a stand-still, who is clearly enhanced despite never having been in their employ, Wutai will matter less to them. You, as a free agent, will be more abhorrent to them than a free nation.”

 

“You want me to… what, sign myself over to Shinra in exchange for Wutai’s freedom?”

 

“Exactly.”

 

Cloud blinked again, then laughed right in Sephiroth’s face. He couldn’t help it, it felt like the sound was yanked out of his chest. 

 

Because it made sense, didn’t it? For all of them. Shinra gained an asset and removed an incredibly dangerous threat. Wutai got to keep its autonomy. Sephiroth got the subject of his piqued interest, close at hand for study. Cloud got his foot in the door, where he could potentially access both Hojo and Jenova. It was a win-win. Absolutely no one lost. It was better than anything he could have hoped for. 

 

Except it was so distasteful, so inherently repulsive to him that he could taste bile in the back of his throat, sharp and acidic like mako. The thought of willingly putting himself under Shinra’s thumb made his skin crawl. That he would possibly be subjecting himself to  _ Hojo _ again? That he would have to follow their orders, work toward their ends, fall in line like a good little SOLDIER? He could feel the collar closing around his neck, a Shinra hand tugging his leash, and it felt like choking. There were few things that disgusted him as much as the thought of willingly submitting to Shinra again. 

 

But what choice did he have? He had a mission that he couldn’t afford to fail, that everyone he loved and the whole damn world would pay the price for if he couldn’t complete, and this was the best way to see it through. It was the perfect solution, dumped right in his lap. 

 

His laughter died down to a grin, but it was a feral, knife-edged thing. 

 

“Fine. But I have conditions.”

 

Sephiroth raised his brows; clearly, he’d been expecting it to be more difficult than that. He hadn’t thought Cloud would be the type to submit so easily, given the way he refused to ever give ground, but maybe he’d gotten the wrong impression. 

 

“I’m listening.”

 

“I reserve the right to refuse to answer any question they ask, and under no circumstances will I work with Professor Hojo.”

 

Sephiroth hadn’t thought that name was common knowledge to anyone outside Shinra, but, given that Cloud was enhanced, he supposed it made a certain amount of sense. 

 

“You must understand that Shinra will have a significant amount of questions they’ll want answered.”

 

“That’s exactly why I’m telling you now that I’m going to refuse some of them. I’ll answer what I can, but some things are my own business.”

 

“They’ll threaten to go back to war, once they have you secured, if you refuse to cooperate.”

 

“If they force my hand, and I have to escape by force, I will tear the Tower down on my way out. They have to understand that. I will walk into the lion’s den, but they have to acknowledge what they’re taking home with them.”

 

“They will be confident they can hold you.”

 

“Just because they can hold you doesn’t mean they can hold me.”

 

Cloud, privately, knew that they could. If they got him in a mako tank, it was all over. Fortunately, he knew the exact situation he needed to avoid. 

 

Sephiroth felt ice slide down his spine, that Cloud seemed to know that Shinra had ever held him against his will. 

 

“You understand why they won’t believe that.”

 

“Then make them. Or don’t, I don’t care. I’m not saying I’ll break out immediately. They can interrogate me first; I’ll play along. When they see it won’t work, they’ll escalate, and I’ll let them, until they press too far, and I put my foot down. When it comes to that, it will be on you to make them see sense. Do whatever you need to, to talk them around into giving up. When that time comes, remember this talk, and this warning, or I’ll remind you the hard way when I tear everything out from under you.”

 

Sephiroth paused to consider him, but Cloud was clearly serious. Whether or not he actually could fulfill that promise was up for debate, but he was obviously certain he could. He nodded. 

 

Changing tact, he said, “Every SOLDIER sees Professor Hojo once a month for their mako injections. You will be inducted into the program; there’s nowhere else for you to go.”

 

“I don’t care. I won’t see him. I don’t need maintenance injections, but I’ll allow them, so you can make Shinra feel like they got something from me.”

 

“Hojo gives the injections.”

 

“It’s a shot. I’m sure any nurse or lab tech could give it.”

 

“He’s the only—“

 

“Let me rephrase. You’ll find someone else to give it, if you want me to get them.”

 

“He’ll want to examine you to understand your enhancements. It would go a long way to getting Shinra to drop their questions if you allowed it.”

 

“Do you really, honestly think I give a damn what he wants? Find a standard doctor, one from the infirmary, and I’ll allow a physical. And I mean a  _ physical _ , that’s  _ it _ . No bloodwork. No  _ needles. _ And now you can tell Shinra I compromised on two whole things.”

 

Sephiroth sighed and drummed his fingers on the table. 

 

“You aren’t making this a very easy sell for me.”

 

“ _ Please _ . You give them that dead-eyed stare and talk real serious and I’m sure you could convince them that the end of the world was about to fall from the sky.” And  _ that  _ sounded a bit too much like Zack’s humor, which meant this conversation was getting to him enough that he was starting to fall back on the old comfort of the SOLDIER’s personality, which meant he needed to get out of here before he started borrowing his mannerisms and raising questions he couldn’t answer. It was just lucky that Sephiroth didn’t know the future event he was referencing with his irreverent humor, and wouldn’t understand exactly how bad his taste with that joke had been. 

 

“Either you overestimate me, or underestimate how stubborn Shinra can be.”

 

“I think I’ve got a pretty good read on them both,” Cloud said, climbing to his feet abruptly. “We good here?”

 

“It would help me sell this to Shinra, if Wutai capitulated on something.”

 

“No. Wutai stays autonomous, and reactor-free. They’re getting me, and that’ll have to be enough for them. If you need help selling them on how huge that is, you let me know, and I’ll raise enough hell to convince them.”

 

Sephiroth huffed something that might have been a laugh, looking incredulous. 

 

“Has anyone ever told you that you are incredibly stubborn?”

 

“Once or twice. I’m leaving now—and don’t send Zack back to me, thinking that this conversation changes anything. He’ll get Sleep spelled on sight like I promised.”

 

“You know, between Zack and myself, I am usually the one people are unwilling to talk to.”

 

“When did I ever promise to make sense?”

 

Sephiroth huffed again, and that  _ was _ a laugh, wasn’t it? Cloud had never heard that sound from him before; his laughter had always been clear, and mocking. 

 

“We will carry on as usual, but I will let you know when I have word from Shinra. Speak to Godo. I will come to your camp when I have news; tell your gunman not to shoot on sight.”

 

“Don’t act like you can’t dodge bullets.”

 

“I can, but he has the unfortunate ability to account for my speed, and aims where I will be, instead of where I am.”

 

“Stop being predictable with where you’re going, then,” Cloud said, despite knowing this was an unreasonable demand; Vincent could read anyone’s movements in the blink of an eye. 

 

“Go,” Sephiroth said, a strange thread of amusement in his voice. “And send Angeal and Genesis in on your way out; they’ve been eavesdropping for a while.”

 

There was the annoyed click of a tongue and a scoff from outside the tent, quickly followed by an amused chuckle. 

 

Cloud rolled his eyes but headed out of the tent without a formal goodbye. He paused just outside of it to make eye contact with the lieutenants, who, sure enough, were waiting by the flap. He jerked his head toward the tent, and Genesis scowled but went inside. Angeal smiled at him, friendly enough, before following his comrade inside. 

 

Cloud made his way from the camp, vaguely surprised that no one attacked him as he left. No one even tried to tail him as he went back to his own camp, which left him wondering if Sephiroth informed his troops of his peace-talk plans, or if they just trusted their general that blindly. Given his own attitude toward the man when he’d been a trooper, Cloud could guess at which it was. 

 

He didn’t bother informing Vincent of what had happened, or rushing to talk to Godo; there would be time later. For now, he went to try and catch some sleep. Even the thought of what he had agreed to exhausted him, and if it actually came to pass, he got the feeling he would need the rest, more than he’d needed it for the entire war. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a note on how I’ve been imagining Cloud’s memories work for this: 
> 
> he actively remembers his childhood in Nibelheim and everything in OG and AC. If it’s presented in OG (like the events of Nibelheim), he remembers it. if it’s referenced in OG (like the labs), he probably has a vague recollection of it, but it might be hazy or spotty. If it’s a memory Cloud and Zack share from Shinra or the labs, then it’s hazy/spotty and might be from either perspective. If it’s a memory only Cloud has, it might come back with the correct trigger. So things like Zack’s winks or turns of phrase will give Cloud flashes of memories, but because the whole memory itself isn’t easily accessed, he just gets the relevant flash. Cloud thinks of some of his memories as being “Zack’s,” but he doesn’t have access to Zack’s memories unless he was also present. So he might remember training with Zack from Zack’s perspective, as he does in this chapter, but he doesn’t have access to Zack’s memories of Angeal and Genesis, even though the sight of them would have triggered a recollection had they been his own memories. Since he worked at Shinra, he would have had an abstract knowledge of them, but he never knew them one on one, so there was no visual/auditory link to be made to his own memories. so if it’s something only Zack would know, Cloud won’t remember it. I hope that makes some sense! I wasn’t sure how to clarify this in the story itself but thought it might help to make clear so here ya go


	12. Chapter 12

“Shinra wants to what?”

 

Cloud sighed. This was why he hadn’t been looking forward to this. 

 

“Not Shinra, Sephiroth. He’s going to try and talk Shinra into taking me in exchange for Wutai’s freedom.”

 

“And they would find that acceptable because?”

 

“Because they don’t like someone like me not being a part of the company.”

 

“Someone like you?”

 

“Enhanced and good with a sword.”

 

“I see. And Wutai will not have to capitulate on anything?”

 

“Sephiroth agreed to autonomy and no reactors, and he’s going to talk to Shinra. You’ll have to haggle them down so they can save face but that should be what they’ll agree to. They’ll just hope you won’t think that’s something you’ll actually get from them.”

 

“I’ll handle it. I just have one question: why are you willing to trade yourself? You aren’t from this country.”

 

“I have my reasons.”

 

Godo sighed impatiently and said, “Do you ever explain yourself?”

 

“Not if I can help it. Goodbye, Godo. Tell me when the talks are done so I know when to stop.”

 

He didn’t want to say stop fighting. He’d be in the middle of the Tower and still fighting, it just wouldn’t be with his sword. 

 

He didn’t wait for agreement. He just hung up. Then he sighed and looked at the flap of his tent, frowning. He was out of things to stall with. He had to go get it over with.

 

He got up, went outside, and tracked down Vincent. When he found him cleaning Cerberus, he didn’t say anything, just waited until Vincent looked up. When he finally did, he jerked his head to the side before he started walking, knowing Vincent would follow. He led him to his own tent; there was no officer’s tent with such a small group. Once they were inside, he turned to face his friend. 

 

“Sephiroth and I have had peace talks.”

 

Vincent blinked at him and said, “What conclusion did you come to?”

 

“Wutai won’t give up anything; I’m handing myself over in exchange. With a few limits attached, which I know they’ll test.”

 

“Do you know what to expect?”

 

“Forced induction into SOLDIER, everything will be tapped, bugs everywhere I go frequently, interrogation, probably an attempt to surprise me with Hojo because I told them I wouldn’t see him. That sound about right?”

 

“Largely. Have you been interrogated by Turks before?”

 

“No, but I don’t think they can do much worse than Hojo when no one’s monitoring him to keep him in line. Unless I’m wrong?”

 

Vincent shook his head and said, “The tactics will be different, but the effects will not. They are unlikely to keep you for four years, either.”

 

“Finally, Shinra clearing a low bar. What will you do while I’m there?”

 

“How will you move forward while so heavily monitored?”

 

“I’ll have to be careful, but being in the Tower will let me at Hojo, and probably Jenova. I’ll be doing recon at first, but when I move it’ll be right before I run out of there.”

 

“I see. How can I help?”

 

“There’s options. You could rejoin the Turks and help me gather info, but I don’t think you want to do that. You could keep an eye on Sephiroth whenever he’s out of the Tower. Track down Jenova if I can’t find her. Assassinate your choice of the Board to give me a diversion to cover when I make my move, just please don’t pick Reeve. There’s the Ancient I told you about, you could keep an eye on her, make sure nothing happens—but I should warn you, the Turks are watching her already. Your pick.”

 

“You aren’t going to assign me?” Vincent said, half-confused and half-amused. 

 

“I’m not your boss, and I definitely am not going to give you orders. Pick what you’d like, or something else you can think of that’d be helpful, just let me know what you decide.”

 

“I can tell you now that rejoining the Turks will be the last choice.”

 

Cloud nodded easily and said, “Thought as much. Going back to Shinra sure isn’t my first pick.”

 

Vincent nodded, very much understanding that sentiment, and grateful he wasn’t in Cloud’s position. He felt vaguely guilty about being spared while Cloud walked into a nightmare, but he was sure to add to his pile of sins if he returned to the Turks, and the idea was abhorrent. 

 

It seemed that Cloud understood, at least somewhat. It remained incredibly odd to have someone who seemed to understand him so well, who could read his intent and his expression without effort. It made his skin crawl at times, that someone he didn’t know understood him so well. But Cloud had yet to show any ill intent, and his in depth knowledge about his mannerisms and nature was half of what sold his “from the future” story. The people who knew him well enough to give him that information were either dead or on Cloud’s hit list, so it was clear he didn’t get the information from them. His future-self apparently vouched for Cloud, and that was something he was inclined to trust. 

 

Again, he seemed to understand too much: he knew that Vincent’s end of the conversation was over and left the tent without further conversation. He watched Cloud’s back until the flap of the tent hid it from view. Then he stared at the canvas in thought. 

 

Cloud walked away, exhausted but unwilling to stop. He figured he’d give Sephiroth a few days before checking in, and until he got word, it was business as usual. The sun was starting to set, which meant he double checked his equipment and left to find some more camps to wreck. 

 

He was going to give Sephiroth a week, but it had only been four days when Cloud was roused from his mid-day attempt at sleep by the sound of gunfire. It was continuing, which made him think it wasn’t Vincent shooting, but it also didn’t sound rapid enough to be a machine gun, like the others had. He hurried out of his tent, not worried that he was in his uniform combats and a smudged tank top that matched the ash still in his hair. He grabbed his blade and ran for the sound of the shots. 

 

He skidded to a halt when he saw what was happening. Then he busted out into a laugh and rested Tsurugi’s tip in the dirt. It didn’t stop the fight, but Cloud didn’t find this urgent. He took his time approaching and putting a hand on Vincent’s shoulder and his blade on his back. 

 

“It’s fine, I’ve got it,” he said as Vincent glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. He took one last shot and lowered Cerberus. 

 

Cloud looked over and grinned at Sephiroth, who had been blocking the shots with his blade, and apparently didn’t find this as funny. 

 

“I see you learned to stop trying to dodge.”

 

“I see you didn’t tell him not to shoot.”

 

“Never said I would. Come on,” Cloud said, nodding in toward the camp. Sephiroth sheathed his sword, looking warily at Vincent, who just blinked placidly back at him. 

 

Cloud led them through camp toward his tent, having to intervene more than once as one of his men rushed Sephiroth. Most could be stopped with words, but twice he needed to step in the middle and deftly flip the oncomer onto their back. When he told them to back off that time, they listened. 

 

He held the tent open for Sephiroth and followed him inside. 

 

“They don’t seem to give you the respect you deserve.”

 

“They respect me most of the time, they just really hate you. And they  _ respect _ me, they don’t cower or idolize me in turns the way your troops do with you.”

 

Sephiroth stood in the middle of the tent, though he had to duck his head and curl his shoulders slightly. Cloud was inclined to make him stay like that, just because the sight was entertaining and further distanced him from the Sephiroth he had known, but that seemed too obviously petty. Instead, he gestured toward the lone chair and stayed standing himself. 

 

“How do you know how they treat me?”

 

“Who cares? Do you have word from Shinra?”

 

Sephiroth sighed, trying and failing to hide how much it irked him that Cloud would give him no straight answers. 

 

“Yes. They argued extensively, but they eventually agreed. They will attempt to haggle with Lord Godo, but I assume you are already aware of that?”

 

“Yeah, I warned Godo. He’s not going to fall for it.”

 

“And I assume  _ you  _ understand that, when you come with us, you will be closely monitored, and likely kept in a cell at first?”

 

“I figured as much.”

 

“You don’t seem very concerned about either.”

 

“Because I’m not. I can handle what they’ll give me.”

 

“Do you know much about the Turks?”

 

“Plenty.”

 

“You understand the lengths they will likely go to in attempt to break you?”

 

“Yup.”

 

“And this  _ also _ doesn’t concern you?”

 

“Listen, Sephiroth, I appreciate the alleged concern, but no, they aren’t going to break me. I’ll still be around for you to try and pick apart, but you aren’t going to get any further than the Turks. I’ll let you try, because you’re going to no matter what I say, but if you treat me like some sort of plaything” (he couldn’t say puppet, wouldn’t put that word in his head) “I’ll teach you better at the end of my sword. Clear?”

 

Sephiroth didn’t look ashamed of having been caught in his dubious intentions. He just tilted his head curiously. 

 

“I wasn’t planning on the latter. How did you know my intention?”

 

“You’re kinda obvious.”

 

Sephiroth blinked, but looked incredulous. 

 

“That’s not something I’ve been accused of before.”

 

Cloud shrugged, but didn’t explain. He didn’t feel like he owed Sephiroth anything at all, but especially not answers that jeopardized the future for him to have. 

 

“How long until the peace talks?” Cloud asked, putting an end to the topic. 

 

“A representative is flying out as we speak. I came mostly to tell you to warn Lord Godo.”

 

“Who’s the representative?”

 

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow, unsure of why Cloud could possibly be asking. 

 

“A Turk.”

 

“Which one?”

 

“Tseng.”

 

“Ah, figures.” Even if he wasn’t dangerously capable in his own right, they would have sent Tseng for being Wutaian, even if Cloud had never discovered if he was born in the country or in Midgar. 

 

Sephiroth tilted his head and said, “How does that name mean anything to you?” The individual Turks were not common knowledge: that was the whole point of them. 

 

Cloud shrugged and said, “Aren’t you tired of asking questions you know I won’t answer?”

 

Sephiroth sighed and said, “One day, you won’t be able to just refuse to answer. I wonder what you’ll do then.” 

 

Cloud snorted, but the corner of his mouth tilted up. 

 

“Yeah, well, we’ll see. I might be able to refuse longer than you think.”

 

“You  _ are _ a stubborn man,” Sephiroth conceded. 

 

“So I’ve been told. How soon is Tseng landing?”

 

“Another five and a half hours, give or take.”

 

Cloud stuck his hands in his pockets and nodded. 

 

“Enough time for Godo to get ready then.”

 

“Why do you not refer to him as Lord Godo? He is your superior.”

 

Cloud snorted and tilted his head. 

 

“In title, maybe. I only listen to him if it suits me.”

 

Sephiroth blinked at him as if this was an impossible sentiment. And, considering how completely he was under Shinra’s thumb, Cloud supposed it would seem that way to him. He doubted Sephiroth had ever really told Shinra “no” about anything. 

 

“I… see.”

 

“So then, cease fire starts now? No point in any last minute bloodshed when a treaty will be signed soon.”

 

It seemed to do the trick, and brought Sephiroth back to his senses. 

 

“Agreed. I can’t guess how long the negotiations will take, but when we have word that they’re done, one of us will come to get you.”

 

“That quick, huh?”

 

“Shinra will be eager to have you in Midgar. Someone will accompany you back, so there is at least the appearance that you are a controlled prisoner under guard. It will not be me, as I’ll be needed here to organize the retreat, but either of my lieutenants or Zack will be with you.”

 

Cloud frowned, his nose wrinkling. Fuck, he hadn’t thought about how much harder it was going to be to ignore Zack now. 

 

“Maybe one of the lieutenants. You guys want it to be believable that the guard can hold me, right?”

 

“No one in Midgar will recognize you, or know your strength. Zack would be believable.”

 

Sephiroth said it with a knowing glint in his eye, and that only served to irritate Cloud further. He didn’t like Sephiroth knowing enough about him to know he didn’t want to be around Zack, because that all but guaranteed that it  _ would _ be Zack accompanying him back to Midgar. He was the most expendable to the war effort, anyway. Damn, but it really was going to be him, wasn’t it?

 

Choosing not to address that, Cloud said, “I’ll be ready to leave by the time someone comes to get me.”

 

Sephiroth took that as the end of the conversation and stood, still needing to duck once on his feet. 

 

“Someone will be by shortly. I suggest you wrap things up and pass the reins to your lieutenant.”

 

At that, Cloud laughed outright. 

 

“He’s not my lieutenant.”

 

“Your second in command, then.”

 

“We don’t have a hierarchy between us, Sephiroth.”

 

“He only took command once you were otherwise occupied,” Sephiroth said, confusion clear on his face.

 

Cloud shrugged and said, “Not everyone prefers being in charge. I just ask him to do things; he’s always free to say no.”

 

Sephiroth looked skeptical; this was clearly not an organization structure he understood well. For all that he claimed to be friends with Angeal and Genesis, it didn’t seem like they were actually equals. 

 

Regardless of his opinion, Sephiroth nodded slowly and said, “Then prepare to hand things off to whoever you’d like. I need to go make my own preparations.”

 

“Worried Tseng’ll stop by and nose around your camp on the way home?”

 

Sephiroth gave him an odd look again because yes, yes he was; Tseng would absolutely investigate and report while he was here. How could Cloud possibly know that?

 

Cloud grinned unapologetically at the perplexed look on Sephiroth’s face and nodded toward the exit of the tent. 

 

“C’mon, let me show you out so no one tries to jump you. War might be over, for practical purposes, but I’d still like my men alive.”

 

Sephiroth frowned at the topic change, but ducked out of the tent first. Cloud followed soon after and began leading them to the edge of camp, giving each of his soldiers a warning look on his way by. No one rushed them that time, but Cloud expected that was more because word had gone around that Cloud would intervene physically if they tried anything. It certainly wasn’t because there was a sudden tolerance for Sephiroth. 

 

They got to the edge of camp before Cloud said, “None of mine will come after you. Send someone when you need me.”

 

Sephiroth nodded, and then turned, making his way back toward his own camp. Cloud watched his progress with his arms folded over his chest. Before Sephiroth disappeared entirely into the trees, Vincent appeared at his side. They watched in silence until Sephiroth was gone. 

 

They continued staring into the forest as Cloud said, “I have to call Godo. A Turk will be at the capital soon for negotiations. I’ll be leaving not long after.”

 

“They’ll come to get you, I assume.”

 

“They sure don’t have my PHS number to call.”

 

“What do you need me to do?”

 

“Whatever you want. You coming to Midgar with me? I can’t get you there on the transport I’m taking.”

 

“I’ll make my own way, but I’ll be there.”

 

“We can delegate breaking down camp. The soldiers will be able to make their way back to their homes on their own when they’re done. When I talk to Godo, I’ll tell him I’m dismissing them when I leave. They’ve done enough for this war.”

 

Vincent hummed his acknowledgement, but said nothing. Cloud put a hand on his shoulder and turned around, heading back to his camp to do as he said he would. He wasn’t excited to talk to Godo again so soon, but he  _ was  _ on a timer. 

 

Unfortunately, that meant his freedom was also on a timer. He grabbed his PHS and tried very hard not to think about what he was about to willingly submit himself to. 


	13. Chapter 13

Cloud may deny it if given the opportunity, but he  _ was _ an anxious man. Most people who knew him in his own time would laugh in his face for denying it, but that had never stopped him. He had a whole host of anxious tics, from ruffling his hair to pacing to bouncing his leg while he sat. The one he was currently indulging in was cleaning First Tsurugi. He had taken it apart and had the pieces spread out before him, scrubbing each and picking out flecks of blood before wiping them down with sword oil. He fiddled with latches and triple tested clasps. He dug his nail into the wrap of the hilt to check it. If he was being very obvious about his nerves, Vincent had the decency not to say anything about it. 

 

They cleaned their respective weapons in silence, until Vincent tucked Cerberus away. It was clean and  _ he _ wasn’t just trying to keep his hands busy. He was also much more capable of sitting in one place and waiting than Cloud was when he got like this. 

 

Still, it seemed much too soon when he heard a bright call of, “Hey!” from the tree line. Cloud pulled in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. He didn’t bother looking up as loud footsteps clumped their way over; he just went about methodically putting his sword back together. 

 

“Wait, undo it, I want to see how many pieces it breaks into,” Zack said when he was close enough, now peering over Cloud’s shoulder. 

 

“No,” Cloud said, redoing the final latch before standing and sheathing his sword at his back, Zack ducking the blade with a laugh. 

 

“C’mon, please? You’re not gonna be able to keep it a secret much longer.”

 

“Why? Planning on taking my sword from me?”

 

“ _ I’m _ not, but it  _ will  _ get taken. You have to know that.” The cheer in Zack’s voice dipped a little.

 

Cloud shrugged. He caught Vincent’s eye and, when they had shared a nod, turned to Zack. 

 

His heart still swelled and his stomach still flipped at seeing him. He wasn’t sure the reaction would ever stop. It was still too new, that was certain, but it was also nearly awe-inspiring.  _ Zack _ , alive and whole before him.  _ Gaia.  _

 

Instead of saying any of this, he said, “Where’s transport?”

 

Zack sighed and ruffled his hair. He looked up at Vincent and said, “Is he always like this?”

 

Vincent blinked at him and answered, “Like what?”

 

Zack stared at him, trying to decide if Vincent was fucking with him. 

 

(He was.)

 

“Riiiiiiight,” Zack said before turning back to Cloud. “I’ll, uh, show you where it is.”

 

Cloud nodded and gestured with his head for Zack to lead the way, as they were already at the edge of Cloud’s camp. Zack led them into and through the trees, but the silence didn’t last very long. 

 

“No one’s sure why you agreed to this, y’know.”

 

Cloud hummed, but didn’t say anything. Best not to encourage Zack if he wanted to make it through to Midgar without losing all of his secrets. 

 

Zack, however, had never been stopped that easily. 

 

He continued, “You’re obviously not from Wutai. Sephiroth told us your spiel about mako but none of us buy that that’s the whole story. And if that wasn’t enough to explain why you’d fight for them, it definitely doesn’t explain giving yourself up for them. Sephiroth said you seem to know what you’re getting yourself into, but I don’t see how you can, not unless you’ve got a way better reason for what you’re doing that you aren’t saying.”

 

Zack paused and looked at Cloud as they walked. Cloud stayed looking ahead. 

 

“Well?” Zack finally tried. 

 

“‘Well’ what?”

 

“You’re really not going to explain  _ any _ thing?”

 

“What about anything I’ve ever done made you think that I would?”

 

“Well, we’re on the same side now, kind of.”

 

“I’m a glorified prisoner of war, not a SOLDIER.”

 

“You’re going to be inducted, though.”

 

“If they decide to trust me. Which they will only do if I explain some things that I definitely will  _ not _ be explaining.”

 

“Maybe. Maybe they’ll make you a SOLDIER anyway. You’re definitely built like one.”

 

“Enhanced like one, maybe.” And it would forever be a sore spot, how he ended up that way. 

 

“How did that happen?”

 

Cloud had to fight back a wince. He never thought  _ Zack _ would be asking him that question.

 

“I thought you were taking me to transport, not interrogating me.”

 

Zack laughed a little and said, “‘Interrogating’ is a little harsh, don’t you think?”

 

“Fishing for information you know I don’t want to talk about, then.”

 

“I don’t  _ know _ that, and I usually try not to make assumptions.”

 

“The hell is the transport, Zack?”

 

Zack sighed. 

 

“Just a little further. They really  _ weren’t _ kidding when they called you prickly, huh?”

 

“You couldn’t tell that from me kicking you out of camp?”

 

“Between that and the story of you putting Genesis up a tree, I was starting to guess, but you’re really bringing the point home.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

Cloud knew Zack well enough to know that the silence that followed wouldn’t last. It was more just time for Zack to find his next angle. He wasn’t going to give up until he had gotten something out of Cloud, which left Cloud wondering if he shouldn’t find something to give him, just to make him drop it. But he thought that was more his urge to indulge Zack talking than his common sense, so he left it alone. 

 

Zack allowed the silence to stretch all the way until they approached the transport, which Cloud almost took to be the Tiny Bronco at first. He mostly remembered flying in helicopters with Shinra, but this was definitely a plane. Which was bad news—they’d be able to talk in a plane. Fuck. 

 

“You ever fly before?” Zack asked, coming to stand at Cloud’s side where he had stopped to stare at the plane. 

 

Cloud couldn’t remember if there were commercial aircrafts. There hadn’t been any in Nibelheim, small town that it was, and he certainly hadn’t had the money for a ticket when he made his way to Midgar. Then he was with Shinra, and flew in the company crafts. His memory was shaky enough he couldn’t pinpoint anything. 

 

So instead of answering, he just went and climbed into the plane, needing one hand to vault up into the opening. Zack followed with the ease allowed by his height, but was sighing at his silence as he did so. He took the seat across from Cloud and they buckled themselves in. 

 

Cloud stared out a window as Zack stared at him. He was only given until they were at a cruising altitude in silence before it began again. 

 

“So, why do you like Sephiroth so much?”

 

Cloud nearly choked on the hysterical laugh that tried to crawl out of his throat. Now  _ that _ wasn’t something he’d been accused of before. 

 

“I don’t,” he answered honestly. 

 

“Seems like you do. He’s the only one you’ll really talk to.”

 

He was also the only one who he really needed to keep an eye on, as he was the only one who was an active threat to the entire planet. 

 

“You’ve never talked to someone you don’t like before?”

 

“I mean  _ I  _ do, all the time. But you barely talked to me, Genesis, or Angeal. Seems like you don’t talk to anyone you don’t like.”

 

“Who says I don’t like you three?”

 

He liked Zack, and Angeal seemed alright. Genesis admittedly seemed irritating most of the time he opened his mouth, but that could just be first appearances. 

 

“ _ Do _ you like us?”

 

“Does it matter?”

 

“To me, yeah.”

 

Cloud knew he should say no, but he also didn’t like the idea of lying to Zack. He shrugged instead. 

 

“That’s not an answer,” Zack said with a frown. 

 

Cloud just shrugged again. 

 

Zack let his head fall back with a groan. 

 

“C’mon, you gotta give me  _ something _ .”

 

Cloud blinked and said, “Do you  _ want _ me to shrug again?”

 

“ _ Cloud _ .”

 

“Listen, Zack. I’m not going to give you anything. You might as well give up.”

 

Zack pursed his lips, but seemed to at least be pausing to think about it. After a long, long moment, he nodded slowly. But, because Zack had never been known for sitting in silence well, he did start to talk again. He did ask Cloud questions, but they were innocuous. What foods he liked, when his birthday was, did he have any nicknames. 

 

And this, arguably, was more dangerous. Because it was easy to stay on guard when asked risky questions. It was much more difficult to do so when the conversation was harmless. He found himself answering without thinking, letting the conversation flow easily between them, the way it always had. The familiarity was dangerous, and it was only the swelling of emotion in his heart that kept him grounded in the present. It would have been so easy to forget why this wasn’t safe, if it wasn’t for how much this meant to Cloud. 

 

The whole flight was easy conversation, which made it very difficult for Cloud to keep his head square on his shoulders. He thought he managed to keep everything important under wraps, but when Cloud caught sight of Midgar, he found himself wondering. 

 

At least half of the reason for that was the way Zack transitioned smoothly from talking about fishing into asking him, “You nervous?”

 

“What?”

 

“You got tense. You nervous about landing?”

 

It was a sign of how far their conversation had gotten in his head that he admitted, “I don’t think anyone would be totally at ease about being a Shinra prisoner.”

 

Zack hummed his acknowledgment before saying, “It shouldn’t be too terrible. Sephiroth’s going to keep an eye on them, make sure things don’t get out of hand.”

 

Cloud snorted and said, “That’s not—“ comforting, he wanted to say, but that was too telling. He changed tact. “That’s not his job description.”

 

Zack shrugged. 

 

“Maybe not, but he wants you in one piece. We all do.”

 

For different reasons, Cloud was sure, but he kept that to himself. 

 

“We’ll see,” Cloud said, and Zack opened his mouth to answer, but then they were landing. The second they came to a complete stop, they were both unbuckling their seatbelts, Cloud with more hesitance than Zack. 

 

Zack, who gave him a warm, winning smile and said, “C’mon. It’ll be alright; I’ll keep an eye on you until Sephiroth gets back.”

 

Normally, that would be far more comforting, but then he remembered that Zack had little power to intervene. Cloud sighed and got to his feet. 

 

“Let’s get this over with,” he grumbled, making his way toward the exit where Zack was waiting. 

 

Zack clapped a hand to his shoulder with a grin, saying, “That’s the spirit.”


End file.
